See You In Hindsight
by K.e.schmidt
Summary: AU: After the showdown at Grady, Beth finds herself traveling back in time to the moment she attempted to kill herself, with all of her memories in tact. From that moment, everything changes, but a lot stays the same, and Beth must figure out how and who to save, and if she can save anyone at all, including herself.
1. Prologue

**Note: This story is co-written by Kait and Rhia. I (Kait) will be uploading here and Rhia will be uploading to AO3. We're uploading the prologue today, but all other updates will take place on Sundays. (We're in the US.) Kait's tumblr url: ampersandsigns ; Rhia's tumblr url: trainedbydaryl**

**We hope you enjoy the story!**

•••

"I get it now."

The crack of a gun, or maybe it was her skull, echoed through Beth's head — so loud that all previous thoughts were drowned out from the sound. But as her body hit the floor she felt an entirely new sensation that filled her with dread. Everything went black, and it was like the world was being split in half beneath her. And she was falling. She spared a thought that this must be what dying feels like. Soon it would all be over for her and it was all her fault.

Down, down, down. As if she was stuck on the part of the roller coaster that dropped you suddenly, that lurch in her stomach was now all that her mind could focus on.

Images of her life suddenly flashed before her, which was when she knew she must have been dying. But with a pang in her chest, she realized these weren't simply life flashes. It was her time with Daryl. Running from the prison, struggling on the road. "I'm not staying in this suck ass camp!" Daryl carries her in a serious piggyback and finding the gravestone. Her slim fingers intertwined with his huge ones, and the comfort she took from that — how right it felt. "Yer first drink ain't gonna be no peach schnapps!" She could still taste the moonshine. And feel the roughness of the back of Daryl's vest on her chest while she held him and he cried. Burning the place down. _The funeral home was probably the happiest she'd been since her daddy died. _She had imagined herself playing house with Daryl, and now she saw him watching her play the piano, and the way he touched the pads of his fingers to his lips. "What changed your mind . . . oh." The walkers. "I'm not going to leave you!" The men take her away. She managed to hear Daryl scream her name as they drove away, and watching it play out again in this out of body experience brought fresh, hot tears to her eyes.

Down, down, down.

•••

"_Get your ass up, lil brother," a familiar voice echoed through his head tauntingly, and then chuckled as if this was all a game to him. Of course it was, Daryl knew that. It was Merle's way of being manipulative, and he'd done it all of Daryl's life to get what he wanted out of his little brother. "And you best be trimmin' that hair of yours, Darylina, you're startin' to look like our ole pal, JC."_

_Daryl's head ached and throbbed with the voice of his brother reverberating off his cranial cavity and into his last nerve. His chest hurt, too, and he wasn't too sure why. The pain was breathtaking, like the wind was knocked out of him and his lungs had stopped working altogether. "Pick y'self up, Darylina," Merle continued in his snide tone. "Beth ain't gonna carry herself out that hospital."_

_The two deafening gunshots replayed in Daryl's mind; the first stopping his and Beth's hearts and the second stopping Dawn's. Three thuds followed; first Beth's body, and then Dawn's, and finally his knees hitting the same linoleum floor. It all came back to him. His search for Beth Greene came to an abrupt end, like blowing out a candle. His candle . . . his flame in the darkness._

"_C'mon, lil brother," jeered Merle. "On ya feet now, like Daddy always told you."_

Daryl stirred out of his dream and surfaced back to reality, his lungs instinctively pulling in a gasp of air as he woke in the shade of a circle of trees. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his eyes, which he wiped at with the backs of his wrists. In his hands, Daryl held a knife and an arrow he'd been whittling by hand.

As he started to regain consciousness, he heard footsteps to his right and birds in the branches above. "Moving to the suburbs?"


	2. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone! We're back, and I hope this clears up what's going on with Daryl, because he's not back in the same way Beth is. Just wanted to let y'all know we really appreciate all of the followers, favorites and reviews we've received for this story already! You guys blow me away. Hope you enjoy :)**

•••

Disoriented was an understatement for the way that Daryl Dixon felt after waking up in that field with his knife in one hand and a handmade arrow in the other. His thoughts were so scattered that he found it impossible to form a complete idea. It was like he was thinking in another language entirely, and it made him lightheaded and dizzy. Anger bubbled up from his gut to his jaw, which he clenched tightly as he went back to sharpening his arrow, but he couldn't find any reason for his rage. The rough redneck's chest felt tight, too; the way that it had when he rounded that corner as a child and found his house up in flames with his mother trapped inside. Daryl didn't face much heartbreak in his life, but he knew what it felt like to have something he loved dearly taken from him. The only problem now was that he didn't understand what he'd lost.

Daryl didn't remember falling asleep or the 'dream' he had before waking up, but he did remember why he'd taken himself so far away from the group he'd come to call family: he was upset over spending so much time looking for Carol's daughter only to find her reanimated and locked away in a barn. He attributed his anger to that and the fact that old man Hershel probably knew Sophia was in the barn the entire time. Needless to say, his confusion and anger made him very irritable, so it was a good thing he secluded himself from the rest of the group for awhile.

"Moving to the suburbs?" Lori Grimes had asked while Daryl was still in a perplexed state of mind. He'd heard her, but he chose to ignore her. The woman had a knack for putting him on edge and she was at it again by intruding on his me-time. Couldn't she see that he was busy?

She was persistent though, as most women were when they needed something done. She stopped in front of Daryl and squatted down so that she could speak face-to-face with him. "Listen, Beth's in some kind of catatonic shock," she began, grabbing Daryl's attention instantly.

Beth. The name churned his stomach, twisting it anxiously until a lump formed in the back of his throat. "We need Hershel," Lori went on without noticing Daryl's struggle to make sense of his emotions.

Keeping his eyes focused on his arrow, he replied, "Yeah? So what?"

"So…I need you to run into town real quick," answered Lori, her annoyance at Daryl's indifference obvious in her tone, "and bring him and Rick back."

Of course, that's what she wanted. She needed the only person that gave a damn about finding Sophia to go out and find her husband and the old man now. No, Daryl was through with searching for people because all that ever came from it was death.

He gripped the arrow tighter and ran his knife along the tip of it to chip off another uneven piece. The end was finally coming to a clean point. "Daryl?"

Looking up, Daryl caught Lori's eye and for a moment his anger simmered. This wasn't about him or Lori or Rick, it was about Beth and her need for medical attention; and so he simply nodded in response. "I'll go, but I wanna see Beth first."

Daryl quickly chipped off two more pieces of his arrow, blew on the tip in order to clear away excess wood shavings, and slid the arrow into the last empty space in his quiver. With a satisfied grunt, he got to his feet, slung his crossbow over his shoulder, and nodded once for Lori to lead the way back to the farmhouse.

Again, his mind was reeling through foggy thoughts, like he was trying to fit together two corner pieces of a jumbo puzzle. And his emotions rocked him back and forth, from anger to concern and back again. He felt like he was ten years old on the Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair just after eating his weight in cotton candy and funnel cake. The most confusing feeling of all was his sudden interest in Beth Greene. He was worried about her, from her whereabouts to her general safety. He wanted her by his side, singing their fears away, climbing up on his back as he carried her, and smiling at him as she spoke of the beautiful things that remained in this desolate world. Daryl didn't know where this was coming from because as far as he knew, they hadn't spoken a word to each other since he and his group arrived at their farm. Beth Greene was obsolete when he put things into perspective, yet she pulled on his heartstrings like they had pulled several all-nighters, blood vessels pumping booze and their mouths spilling secrets.

The walk back to the farmhouse was short, and Daryl actually had a difficult time keeping up with Lori's pace as she half-jogged her way back to Beth's side. She hopped the porch steps with Daryl at her heels; entered the house; and crossed the foyer in two long strides. He dropped his crossbow at the foot of the staircase and took the steps two at a time to the second floor, where Andrea waited just outside of Beth's bedroom door.

"How is she?" Lori asked as she walked across the threshold into Beth's bedroom.

Daryl followed hesitantly, taking in the scene as he entered the room behind Lori. Beth was lying in the bed, her pallor clear as day between Patricia's and Maggie's sun-kissed skin and her lifeless eyes set on the ceiling ahead of her. He didn't understand what was happening, but it distressed him to see her like this. Patricia knelt down beside the bed and placed her stethoscope against Beth's antecubital space before pumping up the cuff around her upper arm.

"Her pulse is slow," Maggie started to explain as she looked up from her watch and let go of Beth's wrist. The older sister caught Daryl's eye and held his gaze for a moment before looking back at Beth. "And her BP's been low, too."

The blood pressure cuff hissed softly as Patricia released the rest of the air and removed the earpieces from her ears, "Eighty-four over forty-six. And she's still not very responsive."

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other anxiously, his eyes glued to the wooden floor beneath him. Seeing the teenager in this state really made him want to find her father and bring him back to her as soon as possible. "Is she in some kinda shock?" his voice quiet and dry with his question, which went unanswered as the women exchanged looks. Finally, Maggie shrugged her shoulders and let out a defeated sigh.

"We don't know," she said truthfully. "'S'why I want Dad here."

He nodded once and glanced between Maggie and Patricia. "I'm gonna go get 'im," he muttered, and then stepped forward with his hands raised slightly. Reaching around Maggie, he presented the group with two unused pillows. "Ya gotta elevate her feet. Blood ain't reachin' her head all flat like that."

Daryl handed the pillows to Beth's sister so that she could place them under her feet once he'd exited the room, and then turned to leave. On his way out, Andrea followed him downstairs and rocket-fired a string of questions at him.

"How'd you know to do that?" He answered with silence as he veered off into the kitchen for some water. "What do you need for the trip?" Again, he ignored her as he dropped a few bottles of water into a backpack and filled the bag with snacks for himself and the group already out in the town. "Want me to come along? I'm a good shot."

Daryl stopped and turned to look at Andrea, a smirk appearing on his face as he stifled a chuckle. "If you were a good shot, you wouldn'av missed and I'da been dead." He raised his eyebrows as if asking her to prove him wrong, and then made his way toward the front door. He picked up his crossbow and slipped the strap over his head and across his chest, pulled the book bag over his shoulders, and secured his knife and gun in their holsters on his belt.

•••

It didn't take Daryl long to find the familiar red and white truck parked outside the town's bar. He figured that Glenn and Rick had arrived in that, and because another vehicle wasn't in sight, that Hershel had walked. The idea originally seemed insane to him, but walking helped him blow off steam, too. Maybe the old man needed to walk off his grief over losing the walkers in the barn. After all, they were people of his family, and even though it was stupid in Daryl's opinion, he understood why Hershel had kept them locked away. He had hope for a cure, hoped to have his wife and son back, hoped to restore their lives and carry on like the outbreak hadn't happened. Shane took that from him, even though they all knew a cure wasn't coming.

Daryl parked his brother's bike next to the truck, removed the key, and started toward the bar. He found the front door unlocked as he turned the knob and stepped into a dusty room, making three shadows turn to see who'd joined them. Silence followed for a few moments before Hershel looked back at Rick and continued.

"Beth needs her mother," the man said, his voice sad and strained, "or rather to mourn, like she should've done weeks ago. I robbed her of that. I see that now."

Rick's frustration was obvious to Daryl as he moved closer to the trio. Hershel's head tipped back as he finished off his drink and set the glass down on the counter heavily. "You thought there was a cure," Rick responded slowly, looking to Daryl as he stopped behind Hershel's chair. Daryl held a hand up to Rick to keep him from saying anything more. Shifting around in front of his friend, he looked Hershel in the eye and felt his anger begin to bubble up again.

Beth needed her father by her side, not only to treat her through her shock, but to comfort her as she mourned the loss of her mother and brother. Sure, she needed her mother, but all she had was her father now and that's who she needed most. Instead of being there, though, Hershel was drinking his pain away. Daryl felt betrayed on behalf of Beth. It reminded him of his own mother, drinking herself to sleep instead of stepping in between her children and their father as he used them like human punching bags.

"You're gonna lose your little girl," Daryl started in a bitter tone. "You're just gonna sit here an' drink away your goddamn sorrows while Beth slips away. 'Least you still got your family, some of us ain't that lucky."

As he spoke, Hershel's facial expression softened and he nudged his glass further away from him. He nodded a few times and sat up a little, shifting his eyes from Daryl to Rick and Glenn, then back again. "You're right," the oldest of the four admitted, defeat woven in his words. He got up from the barstool and clapped both Rick and Daryl on the shoulders, a sign of thanks for snapping him out of his own form of shock. With a long gaze at Glenn followed by a single nod, Hershel shuffled around them and led the way toward the door, eager to get back home to his daughter.

On the way out, Daryl passed out a few bottles of water and gave Glenn the backpack so that the three of them could eat on the drive back to the farm. He swung his leg over his bike and started it, idling until Rick backed the truck out of its parking spot, and then following it back to Hershel's property.

•••

**Sneak peek at chapter two:**

Why were all of her journal entries mentioning Daryl? She put herself back in the prison; did she feel this way about Daryl even back then, without even realizing it? She flipped more pages.

_The prison fell. We lost . . ._

Those were the only words on that page. It was stained with tears. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She knew they lost her father that day. She and Daryl were on the run for a while before Beth was taken to Grady. She closed the journal, unable to bare any more of the pain that seeped through its pages. She slipped it underneath her mattress and looked around the room and sighed. How was this possible? Was _this_ the dream? Was she actually dead? Is this purgatory? Should she tell someone? Maggie maybe? How could anyone believe this? She barely believed it herself.


	3. Chapter 2

**Note: Here we go! Chapter 2. Tumblr users might recognize the first part from the original prologue I wrote for the fic prompt. The rest is new! Hope you enjoy. Also! If you're a tumblr user, the lovely person who asked for this fic in the first place happens to be a very talented artist and she's drawing companion art for this story. It's amazing! You can check her stuff out at tumblr url: aspaceformymuse and this fic has it's own tumblr at: seeyou-inhindsight.**

**Thanks again to all the new followers, favorites and reviewers! You guys give me life3**

**•••**

When Beth opened her eyes again, her first thought was that _everything_, the outbreak, her new family . . . Daryl . . . had all been some strange nightmare. Her mind and body were still in the fight or flight mode that the zombie apocalypse required of a person. Her muscles were tense and her heart was beating frantically against her rib cage. But when she looked around to see she was back in the farmhouse she'd grown up in, for one second she fooled herself into thinking that the world outside this place was as normal as cherry pie on a summer day. That her mother and father were making dinner, Maggie and Shawn away at college, Jimmy somewhere safe probably thinking about her.

That's when she felt the harsh edges of the slice of mirror in her hand. And she suddenly felt the bitter sting of irony. She had made a rash, uncharacteristically stupid decision to attack Dawn in that hospital. She'd chosen revenge over not only her life, but also the lives of her family. And here she was, back at the pivotal moment when she first chose to _live_.

She suddenly thought this was like a song, one that started out full of tragedy and despair but that eventually had a change of heart — that her decision to try and kill Dawn was her DS al Coda, and now here she was back to this specific point. _She would not make the same mistake twice_.

Her sudden determination made her clutch the shard of glass in her hand harder and she hissed at the sudden pain coursing through her palm.

"Beth . . ? Beth!" Desperation laced Maggie's voice as she banged on the locked door to the bathroom.

A memory flashed through Beth's mind of the first time this happened — Lori forcing the door open, blood dripping down her wrists, tears streaming down her cheeks. And the pain, oh she remembered the pain, not only in her wrist but also in her soul and her sister's face.

She dropped the piece of mirror and it clattered to the floor as the door flew open. Even though Maggie was scared, and she was the reason for that fear, her heart swelled at the sight of her sister. _Beth hadn't seen her since the prison fell_. And here she stood, so young and still full of life — the realities of their world only just starting to truly affect her.

"Maggie, I'm so sorry!" She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around her sister. Tears quickly filled her eyes.

But Maggie only yielded to the embrace for a moment before desperately searching Beth's body for cuts.

"I couldn't go through with it," Beth said quietly, suddenly trembling.

"Oh, Beth," Maggie exhaled like she'd been holding her breath for days. She pulled Beth into her arms and they held each other for what seemed like forever and yet only a few seconds.

As she shook in her sister's arms, Beth's mind raced. She had been given another chance, but she remembered too much. These people, Lori, Rick, _Daryl_, saw Beth as practically a stranger. Just seeing Lori alive and standing behind Maggie made her throat tighten, and think of Judith. _No one would believe her._

But despite these challenges that seemed picked out from a science fiction novel, for some reason she was given another chance at this life. She didn't know how or why any of this could be possible, but she wasn't going to take it for granted.

•••

Maggie didn't want to leave her side, and frankly Beth didn't want her too either. Except for the fact that she'd felt her journal in her back pocket when she returned, or woke up from a strange dream, she still wasn't sure. Hopefully the journal would provide her with some answers, because she'd seen another journal on her bedside table. The only way that made sense was she actually came back from the future. Which was crazy!

Finally she couldn't handle it anymore. "Maggie, uhm. Do you mind? I love you but I just need to be alone for a minute. I promise I'm not going to do anything stupid."

Maggie studied her closely, looking for any sign of a lie. When she was satisfied, she squeezed her sister's hands and Beth wrapped her arms around her neck. "Don't do anything stupid, okay? I can't go to your funeral, Beth. I can't."

"I know," Beth sighed. "I love you. I'll be down for dinner."

"Okay. See you soon."

As Maggie closed the door, Beth fumbled to pull the journal out of her pocket. She was shaking. Could this possibly be? She started flipping through the pages and stopped in the middle of the book.

_Daddy lost his leg today on a mission to clear out walkers from the prison. He still hasn't woken up after Rick chopped it off. I'm so scared for him, for Maggie and me. Even if he wakes up from this, how will he continue to survive without a leg with zombies running around? But I want him to survive. Even if I have to protect him every second of every day myself, I just want to talk to my Daddy again._

Beth wiped tears from her eyes. She flipped a few pages, hoping to find something nicer.

_Lori died today. And T-Dog and Carol. There was a huge herd of walkers. But Lori gave us one last gift — a beautiful little girl. But Carl had to put his mother down himself. I can't imagine what that did and will do to him. I can't imagine having to do that to Daddy or Maggie. Seeing Rick break down was hard, too. He's been keeping to himself since. I don't know what will happen to him or the group. Surprisingly, Daryl takes care of that baby like he's done it before. Who knew Mister-rough-around-the-edges-redneck has such a gentle touch. His whole face changes when he holds her. He's actually quite attractive when he's not scowling._

Beth flipped through more pages.

_The Governor wants a war. I'm honestly frightened about what will happen. He has numbers, but the prison is safe. Merle is here. Seeing him makes my blood boil, knowing what he did to Glenn and what he let happen to Maggie. He and Daryl clearly have a complicated relationship. Hopefully he realizes that his brother has it good here, and won't screw it up for him._

Why were all of her journal entries mentioning Daryl? She put herself back in the prison; did she feel this way about Daryl even back then, without even realizing it? She flipped more pages.

_The prison fell. We lost . . ._

Those were the only words on that page. It was stained with tears. Her heart dropped into her stomach. She knew they lost her father that day. She and Daryl were on the run for a while before Beth was taken to Grady. She closed the journal, unable to bare any more of the pain that seeped through its pages. She slipped it underneath her mattress and looked around the room and sighed. How was this possible? Was _this_ the dream? Was she actually dead? Is this purgatory? Should she tell someone? Maggie maybe? How could anyone believe this? She barely believed it herself.

Beth left the room, unable to take the four walls confining her. She slipped into the kitchen to find Maggie, Lori, and Patricia making dinner for the group.

"What can I do?"

The women turned, surprised to find Beth standing there. Maggie beamed back at her sister.

"Oh, honey, you should rest," Patricia responded, concern wrinkling her eyebrows

"No, I'm fine. I want to help. It'll get my mind off of everything."

Maggie motioned her closer and let her take over washing the potatoes, while Maggie made to cut the already clean ones. It was nice to have her sister by her side again. She kept stealing glances at her, young, healthy, beautiful, on the brink of falling in love.

"What're you looking at?" Maggie teased when she caught Beth's stare.

Beth blushed, unsure of how to proceed but wanting to just spill everything to her sister right then and there with Lori and Patricia overhearing. She almost didn't care. But she knew she shouldn't. "I just love you, and I'm glad to be here."

Maggie set the knife down and wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders. "I love you, Bethy. I'm so proud of you," her sister crooned. "But don't you ever scare me like that again, Beth Greene."

She chuckled and bumped her sister's hip with her own. "I won't. I promise."

•••

After dinner and most had gone to bed, Beth made for the kitchen for a drink of water and found her father sitting at the dining table alone with his head in his hands.

The sight of him alive and breathing brought tears to her eyes. She remembered telling Daryl at the prison that she didn't cry anymore. And here she was crying at the drop of a hat. But this was different. This was a weird mix of pain and relief that she'd never experienced before. It made it hard to breathe with the weight of it all.

Herhsel still didn't notice her standing in the doorway, they hadn't seen each other since the bathroom incident, but she knew he knew.

"Daddy."

The sound coming out of her mouth almost made her start crying again. It had been so long since she said that to him, and not about him.

He looked up and she couldn't read his expression. Some mix of pain and pride, but she couldn't figure out the ratio.

"Doodlebug."

She crossed the floor quickly and wrapped her arms around him. She pushed her body against his so forcefully she could feel his weight shift in the chair.

"Woah, bug, everything's fine, I'm right here."

Beth stepped back a bit to look her father in the eye, trying to keep her breathing steady. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for the way I acted after . . ." Her voice trailed off and she looked around toward the direction of the farm.

"No, no, Beth," her farther shook his head. "I robbed you of grieving for your mother and your brother and I – I never should've done that. I was stupid."

The first time, they never talked about it. After she'd cut herself he'd stitched her up and she'd never apologized, just said she wanted to live now and they both left it at that. Not that she had ever held a grudge against him for the barn, but hearing him say he was wrong somehow helped heal that layer of her heart a little better.

She still couldn't believe she was looking at her father. He still had two legs and short hair. He was not yet the warrior he died as, but it would happen soon enough. For now he was almost the soft teddy bear she'd known him as during her childhood.

Beth climbed onto his lap like she used to do when she was much smaller, resting her head against his chest and taking a deep, shaky breath.

"We're gonna be okay, Daddy. These people, they're _good _people."

He wrapped his arms around her like they had just sat like this yesterday. "They are," was all he said in response, though she could tell he thought of saying more. Maybe about Shane, or about how the group was fighting too much. But he thought better of it. "I'm glad you came back to us."

The comment made Beth stiffen for a minute. _How did he know?_ But then she thought of that bathroom, where she almost ended her life. And she knew what he meant — that the Beth he knew and raised would never have made that decision.

"I was just so overwhelmed, but I wasn't in my right mind. We can't lose hope."

When they made eye contact again, there was no pain in her father's eyes, just pride. And she smiled.

"You're right. We've all got jobs to do. And right now, yours is to sleep. C'mon, let's get you to bed."

•••

**Sneak peak of Ch. 3:**

A sudden yawn came to Beth's mouth then, which she passed on to him, making him yawn along with her. She seemed a lot calmer than she had when she first came outside, her mind full of thoughts she couldn't shut off. "I'm going to try and sleep," she said, taking her hand away and standing up. She stretched like a cat waking up from a particularly peaceful afternoon nap, and took a deep breath.

As she turned and looked him over, she remembered the moonshine shack. And that sometimes, actions spoke louder than words. She took a timid step toward him, and bent down at her waist to wrap her arms around his neck. She could tell he didn't expect it, but he didn't do anything to stop her, so she nuzzled her face against his neck and breathed in deep. She closed her eyes, wondering when she would be able to touch him again, knowing this might be the last time for a while. She savored every second before footsteps came up the porch stairs.


	4. Chapter 3

Beth stared up at the ceiling, her mind reeling from the day's events. And not just that specific day she was sitting in now, but getting shot at Grady Memorial and Daryl and the journal she'd found in her pocket that proved it wasn't all just a dream. But she didn't know. Would she dream about her past life when she slept? Beth knew she didn't want to find out.

Even though she knew she needed sleep, she wanted to be outside under the stars to clear her head. She wouldn't be able to calm herself in this room, not with all that had happened. So she slipped out from beneath the covers and crossed the floor. The door opened with a small creak, but when she looked around in the hallway no one else made any noise of acknowledgement, even in their sleep. Her bare feet padded along the hard wood of the house. When she reached the door to the patio she pushed it open quietly, and stepped out into the warm Georgia night.

A sigh escaped her lips. She knew there wouldn't be many calm nights ahead. The thought made her shiver, even in the sticky darkness. She heard shuffling near her, and turned to find Daryl Dixon watching the field. The sight of him and his crossbow, sitting there, made her throat tighten, her breath stop short, and her heart flutter nervously against her rib cage. She hadn't gotten to speak to him at Grady, and the last words she said to him echoed in her head: "I'm not going to leave you!" But he didn't remember that. It hadn't happened yet. She shouldn't know it was going to happen. Hell, she didn't even think at this point her and Daryl had shared two words with each other before. And the whole thing made her head swim with ifs and buts and almosts.

Silently, she took the seat next to his — an old rocking chair with white paint chipping off from age. And then she just stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out what to say and not giving a damn if it made him uncomfortable, knowing he wouldn't start the conversation anyway. "Do you mind if I sit with you a while? I can't sleep."

Daryl had a lot on his mind when the screen door opened, and the spring stretched and snapped the door back into place. He shuddered at the sound, startled because he wasn't expecting anybody to be up at this hour. Usually when he took the night watch, the others from their group took advantage of it and slept through the night, knowing that they'd be safe with the archer on duty. He glanced over his shoulder to see Beth Greene standing on the doormat, taking in the warm and quiet night with no knowledge of his presence until she looked down at him and their eyes met for a moment. _"Don't you think that's beautiful?"_

Quickly looking away, Daryl focused back on the empty acres spreading far ahead of him. Not a walker in sight. He sat back as Beth took a seat beside him and asked if it he was okay with her company. "S'fine, Beth," he replied quietly, stealing a glance at her.

Daryl actually welcomed the company, and he knew that if it had been anyone else, he'd've taken a walk until they went back inside to bed. He was simply intrigued by Beth, the same way that he had been a few days prior when she was still in her state of shock. He felt drawn to her like they had magnets pulling them together. The last time he felt this way about someone, he was head over heels in love with the girl, which made this all the more confusing to him. After all, he barely knew the girl.

"I been there before," he whispered and nodded his head a few times as he shuffled his rocking chair around to face Beth a little more. "Had no hope, no vision for the future. Kinda stuck with no way out. Thought it'd be easier to die than it'd be to keep livin' in a lifeless shell."

He shrugged his shoulders, mostly to himself because he didn't know why he was opening up to the girl. Nobody knew about the hell he put himself through after Merle left home for good; hell, even Merle didn't know. Maybe Beth would take something from it, see him as a role model so she wouldn't let herself get that low again. Maybe he just needed to talk about it finally. "I'm just happy we both came back from it," he concluded plainly.

He watched her in the beam radiating from the porch light as she swallowed hard and blinked tears out of her eyes, obviously emotional over the whole ordeal. He could understand it; everybody on the farm knew her business right now and it really wasn't business he'd want everybody to know about either. She was fragile—emotionally, definitely not physically. It took someone strong to choose life over death.

"Me too," was her first response and Daryl wondered if she truly meant it. If she was actually happy to still be around, or if she was just here because that's what her family would want. He wanted to know, wanted to get to know her and her secrets.

The girl shifted in her chair and brought her legs up, knotting them like a pretzel beneath her. She let out a sigh as she pieced together her next sentence in her head, rehearsing it before she let it flow from her lips and to his ears. "I just wanted to be in control of it, you know? It's inevitable, and I just - I'd rather go out on my own terms. But, that's not really an option now." Beth paused for a moment, her hands physically weighing her choice in words. "We owe it to ourselves to fight; I guess is what I'm trying to say. To ourselves and the people we love, to fight until our last breath."

Daryl listened as Beth struggled to explain her thoughts in coherent sentences, but as she strung her words together, he realized that he agreed with her completely. They had jobs to do, duties to fulfill for those in their group, those they called family. She was right, they both had a place and if either of them were gone, things would fall apart. Even before the outbreak, this was true. Still, he agreed with her desire to be in control of her own life, her own demise. He would rather die at his own hand than be eaten alive by a walker, after all.

"I get it," Daryl mumbled softly, touching his fingertips to his lips as he stared at Beth. Her ponytail was loose, probably pushed around as she tossed and turned in her efforts to sleep. The fly-aways framed her face, gently lying against her skin in an unkempt kind of way. The moonlight made her crystal blue eyes twinkle as she gazed up at him. All of it made her beautiful to Daryl, and he had to consciously look away in order to keep himself and his breathing in check. Where was this coming from? Was he really this lonely? Seeking attention from a sixteen year old girl with an idiot for a boyfriend? He shook his head at himself and tried to clear away his thoughts. "'M sorry about your mom, and your brother. Shane's a prick, I wouldn' stop ya if you decided to kill him."

A laugh bubbled from Beth's lips before she could stop it, and she seemed to revel in the feeling of it, like it had been the first time she'd laughed in awhile. It was contagious and Daryl found himself chuckling, too, especially as he imagined her small frame taking down Shane.

Beth settled finally and sighed again, an exhale of happiness. She held her aching abs and smiled at him. "Thanks for that. And for saying that about my mom and Shawn. I kind of knew all along I guess. That they weren't coming back." Her jovial expression fell about ten stories as she uttered her gratitude. "I'm sorry about Sophia. I had no idea she was in there, and I really don't think my father did either. He wouldn't have let you and the others risk their lives like that if he'd known…I know you did all you could to find her, and I'm so sorry," she concluded, making Daryl wave it off literally.

She didn't have to thank him or feel sorry for him because he was used to it. He was used to disappointment and he was used to dealing with it. Deep down, he kind of had a feeling Sophia was dead, he just didn't want to believe that. For Carol. No one deserved to lose their children, and Daryl wanted to be the one to bring Sophia back to her. He wanted to be the reason for her happiness, for the group's happiness. He wanted to be the hero, but heroes didn't exist in this world. "It don't matter, Beth," Daryl began with a shake of his head. "I'm used to it. Used to losin' people, disappointment and all. You get used to it in a world like this."

He felt himself close up again, subconsciously building a brick wall between his feelings and Beth the way that he had his entire life. His anger over finding Sophia in the barn still lingered in the palms of his hands as he balled them into fists, but his face remained soft and his rage soon passed. "Thank you, though," he finally said, knowing that this was what Beth wanted from him. He gave his condolences, she gave hers. All he had to do was acknowledge it. "I feel like I was the only one to ever give a damn about that lil girl, though, her mother included. I hope she knows I tried."

"She does, Daryl," Beth rebutted with conviction. She brought her hand to his forearm gently, her fingers cold against his heated skin, and it sent a shiver through him. It felt familiar, her touch and her presence; but as soon as he felt it, the familiarity faded. Like a dream as he woke up.

A sudden yawn came to Beth's mouth then, which she passed on to him, making him yawn along with her. She seemed a lot calmer than she had when she first came outside, her mind full of thoughts she couldn't shut off. "I'm going to try and sleep," she said, taking her hand away and standing up. She stretched like a cat waking up from a particularly peaceful afternoon nap, and took a deep breath.

As she turned and looked him over, she remembered the moonshine shack. And that sometimes, actions spoke louder than words. She took a timid step toward him, and bent down at her waist to wrap her arms around his neck. She could tell he didn't expect it, but he didn't do anything to stop her, so she nuzzled her face against his neck and breathed in deep. She closed her eyes, wondering when she would be able to touch him again, knowing this might be the last time for a while. She savored every second before footsteps came up the porch stairs.

"Daryl, there you are," Rick's voice from behind them startled her, and she turned her head away from Daryl, but not her body — which subsequently was pushed closer to Daryl's in the process, to look toward the voice.

"I'll leave y'all to it," Beth said quietly into Daryl's ear as she pulled away.

Daryl hadn't expected Rick to approach him at such an hour, but it seemed that sleepless nights were contagious about the camp. Beth had leaned into him as she hugged him tightly, the first hug he'd had in years. His thoughts were full of it, the way it felt, the warmth she'd left behind after she made her exit. The way his heart sort of fluttered at her touch. Daryl didn't understand it, the way he felt about this girl he barely knew, how he'd opened up to her so easily. But he welcomed it, the girl and the friendship that he felt building from their short conversation.

"We gotta do somethin' about Shane," Rick began, sitting in the rocking chair that Beth had vacated. "I can't sleep. I keep thinking about what he's done, the trust he's cost us. He can't just get away with slaughtering this family's own."

Rick's voice pulled Daryl from his thoughts and he simply nodded in response, agreeing completely that something had to be done. Shane was out of control and Daryl was actually afraid to see what the man would do next. "What d'you suggest?" he asked Rick before reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes, a force of habit. His fingertips touched his forehead and found his hair shorter than they'd remembered.

"We can limit his power," Rick started with a sigh, "take away his firearms, and give him no voice in the group. Seems childish, but I can't trust him, at least not with a gun."

Daryl lifted his shoulders in a shrug and _hmph_ed. "Think that'll stop him from scarin' everybody?" he asked. "Why are ya asking me anyway?"

It was Rick's turn to be at a loss of words. He lifted his hand in a gesturing way toward Daryl, and then shook his head back and forth. "This group is in your best interest, Daryl. You showed up and convinced Hershel to return home to help Beth. You searched for Sophia relentlessly. I value your input."

"You want my input?" Daryl quickly followed up, his voice rough with irritation. "Kill Shane before he kills you."

**I don't know how Kaitlin does this, but here's the preview to chapter IV:**

Beth let out another scream as she dug her knife into the closest walker. Dark blood and brain matter came flying at her, dousing her already stained shirt. She could feel the blood soaking her hair to her face and the smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming.

Walkers kept coming; the fresh meat enticed them toward her. She killed one walker after the other, as they kept coming she started to kick them down too. She stomped down on the skulls of the ones who fell. Blood spattered everywhere and the crunch of skulls only egged her on instead of disgusting her.

The dead kept falling around her, but as they fell more replaced them. She thought of Hercules fighting Hydra, the nine-headed water-serpent who would grow two heads every time one was cut from her body. _Focus!_ She told herself as she continued to slaughter the walkers, letting out more guttural screams.

Her voice was suddenly drowned out by the sound of an engine roaring to life. _Daryl_. She kept fighting, knowing he would come for her. She thought for a moment about how crazy that was.

The first time her father's farm was overrun, she'd never spared a second thought for the redneck. But she'd seen the changes in him on the porch that night, and she trusted him with every fiber of her being, just as she had in the funeral home.

She kept running, kept killing until Daryl's bike came into view."C'mon," he screamed, "I ain't got all day."


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm finally back. I (Kait) recently moved and started a new job. I didn't get internet until late this week, but I'm happy to finally be posting this chapter! You guys have been so awesome with the f/f and the reviews. I'm sorry I didn't personally answer all the reviews from the last chapter, but I'm hoping to do that before we post Chapter V. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter. As always, you can reach us on tumblr at: seeyou-inhindsight ; aspaceformymuse (fic art!) ; andytots (Kait) ; and trainedbydaryl (Rhia3).**

**•••**

Breakfast was served that morning and Beth kept her eyes on Daryl most of the time. She was confused by their conversation the night before. The Daryl she was talking to on the porch was more like the Daryl at the funeral home. But it had taken him years, lives lost and blood shed for him to get to that point originally. He was more sharp edges and scowls before, but this Daryl was compassionate. Her stomach tightened and her heart fluttered around in her chest just thinking about the night before. _The way he felt when she hugged his strong shoulders._

Rick pulled Shane aside as the group finished up breakfast and Beth glued her eyes to them. The conversation got heated almost immediately and Rick stood firm, demanding his weapons. As their voices got louder, the rest of the group followed Beth's suit by watching silently. Shane stormed out of the house defenseless, and the door slammed shut behind him.

Rick returned to the group and announced they needed to have a meeting. Everyone made their way to the living room; individual conversations about what was going on sprang up quietly.

Beth took a seat next to Maggie, who was sitting next to Glenn. Daryl was immediately across from her and their eyes locked briefly before she looked away. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to Rick. "We need to talk about Shane. He's a threat to our group. We can't control or predict him."

"I told ya, I didn't want him on my farm, Rick," Hershel said, a bit of annoyance laced his usually calm tone.

"What do you propose we do?" Dale was more eager than he'd been about killing Randall, but Beth had always thought Dale saw through the gruff, hotheaded man.

"I don't know, that's why I came to everyone. What do y'all want to do?" Rick asked, before adding, "I took away his weapons."

"I still don't trust 'im," Daryl grumbled. Beth snapped her head toward the man, studying him. He wasn't sitting; instead his body leaned against the wall, always at the ready.

"Me either," Maggie agreed, pulling Beth's eyes away from Daryl, and Glenn nodded beside her.

"Do we just take him out and leave him? Really Rick?" Andrea chimed in, clearly getting flustered with the conversation. Beth had noticed Andrea and Shane getting closer. He was taking her out to train her some days. She knew from experience the kind of relationship that grew from those kinds of sessions, how much you end up trusting that person.

"He knows where the farm is, no I don't think abandoning him _is_ an option," Rick replied calmly.

"So what? Are you suggesting we kill him?" Andrea threw her hands around in exasperation. Looking around at the group, hoping someone would step up and agree with her. But no one would. Shane put everyone on edge, even Lori, who apparently had relations with him while she thought Rick was dead. It was funny to the blonde, as she sat there looking at these people, that gossip still made its way around at the end of the world.

"From where I sit, there's only one way to move forward," Daryl said, pushing himself off the wall as he spoke to everyone. "Just another mouth to feed." A few heads nodded in agreement.

"So the answer is to kill him?" Andrea argued straight to Daryl, throwing all her anger toward the one man.

"If you go through with it, how would you do it?" Patricia asked meekly. "Would he suffer?"

"We could hang him. Snap his neck," Glenn offered.

"I thought about that, but I think shooting might be more humane," Rick said.

Everyone looked around at each other for a moment, as if a silent decision had passed between them all.

"What do we do with the body? Bury it?" T-Dog finally broke the silence.

"Wait, wait hold on. _Hold on_," Andrea barged into the conversation again, walking toward the center of the group. Turning around to look at everyone. "You're talking about this like it's already been decided."

"We been talkin' 'bout this for days," Daryl argued. "Just goin' 'round in circles. You jus' wanna go 'round in circles again?"

"This is someone's life. And it is worth more than a five minute conversation," Andrea spoke firmly. "Is this what it has come to? We kill someone because we don't know what else to do with him? How are we any better than him?"

The group fell silent again, and Beth turned to Rick to gauge his reaction to the whole conversation.

"We all know what needs to be done," Rick said.

"Stop it, just _stop_ it," Carol chimed in for the first time. "I'm sick of everybody arguing and fighting. I didn't ask for this. You can't ask us to decide something like this. Please decide . . . Either of you, both of you, but leave me out," she said to Rick and Andrea.

That's when the door flew open and all the women jumped, as the men reached for their weapons. Shane walked in, looking around like a rabid animal. "Rick," he bellowed, "We need to talk."

Everyone looked at each other, obviously thinking the same thing. _How long had he been standing there?_

Rick went to leave, and Lori grabbed at him in vain. "Rick please, don't."

"I'll talk to him. See what he has to say," Rick said officially. "Everyone else stay inside. Stay safe."

Beth twisted around in her seat to peer out the window as the men walked further into the field, toward the woods. _This is it._ She stood up, headed for the kitchen. That's when she saw Carl putting a gun into his belt and sneaking out the back door. It was weird knowing what would probably happen before it did, though she had to admit things were different, things had changed, but everything seemed to happen the way it was supposed to. Meaning they'd lose Jimmy tonight and Patricia, and Dale more than likely. Her heart felt heavy, but Patricia wouldn't have made it much longer in this world anyway and Jimmy, well, she just didn't feel the same way about him as she did in the beginning of their relationship. And now, now there was Daryl. She chuckled, picturing Daryl getting jealous of a little thing like Jimmy. She shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts when there was about to be a war.

Maggie came up behind her, "What are you doing?"

Beth grabbed a steak knife and pushed it between her belt and her jeans. "I don't know what's about to happen, but if Rick needs to defend himself, he's gonna have to shoot him, and that could attract those walkers and I don't want to be a sitting duck."

Maggie rushed to her sister and pulled her into her arms. "Oh, Bethy."

"What? I want to _live_ Maggie, we all do. We need to be prepared."

Two gunshots were heard in the distance, and both girls jumped a bit.

"CARL? WHERE'S CARL? HAS ANYONE SEEN CARL?" Lori was frantically searching from room to room.

Beth walked over to Lori and took ahold of her shoulders, "Lori, it'll be okay. Carl's a smart boy. I'm sure he went looking for Rick."

"Why couldn't he just listen for once?"

Beth shrugged, unable to console the worried mother. She gave her a hug before joining the rest of the group outside, everyone but Carol who stayed behind to help look for Carl.

As she wiggled her way to the front of the group, she could see the herd of walkers, who'd been attracted by the sound of the gunshots, just as before. Beth's heart was beating fast, but Daryl had trained her. Things would be different this time.

"Patricia, kill the lights," Hershel spoke calmly.

"I'll get the guns," Andrea said as she walked back into the house.

"Maybe they're just passing, like the ones on the highway," Glenn said hopefully.

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know 'bout," Daryl said. "A herd that size would rip the house down."

"Carl's gone!" Lori screeched, as if they'd all forgotten. "I'm not leaving without him," Lori said.

"No, we're not, we're going to look again," Carol replied as she rushed to Lori's side and into the house. "We're going to find him," was the last thing Beth heard as they disappeared.

As Maggie started passing out guns, Daryl questioned them.

"We have guns. We have cars," Hershel said firmly. "This is my farm. I'll die here."

"A'ight," Daryl said, hopping the rail. "It's as good'a night as any." Daryl hopped on his motorcycle and revved the engine. Andrea and T-Dog took one of the trucks, and Maggie and Glenn took the SUV. Jimmy hopped into the RV, and they took off toward the barn as it started to catch fire.

Beth went inside with the others, and told them about the flames.

"Maybe Rick set it to draw them in," Patricia said.

"Well, they're headed for it," Beth nodded.

"I can't find him!" Lori came running down the stairs. "What do I do?"

"Maybe he set the fire," Patricia offered, and Lori looked out toward the barn.

"Oh God."

Carol and Lori went off looking in more places. Patricia hugged Beth. She took the time to appreciate the woman she'd grown to love, especially after her mother had gotten sick. "Thank you for all that you've done," she told the woman.

"Oh, hush, it was my pleasure. You and your sister have grown into such strong, beautiful women," Patricia started to tear up and she swiped at her eyes. "This isn't goodbye. We're going to be fine, Beth."

Carol rushed in to relieve Beth from having to answer, knowing she wouldn't be able to tell Patricia that everything would be fine. "We've got to go," Carol said. "Now."

Lori was already shooting walkers when they reached the porch.

"Herhsel! Hershel, come on, it's time to go! Come on! Now!" Lori screamed over the sounds of guns firing from all around.

Hershel wouldn't listen, and Beth started running with Patricia, hoping that leaving before they had originally could save the woman. With one hand in Patricia's and the other on her knife, Beth took off. She swept her eyes over the field for Daryl, and that's when it happened. One small moment of paying attention to anything other than Patricia cost the woman her life. She heard the crunching of bone and skin and Patricia's screams. Three walkers were eating at her flesh, and it only took three jabs of her knife to bring them all down. Beth was crying now, "I'm so sorry." It was harder than she'd expected. But this time she had the strength to put Patricia out of her misery and jammed the knife into her brain while the older woman screamed through the pain of the bites.

Lori and Carol hadn't stopped and they made it to the truck Andrea vacated as T-Dog waited to rush them away from the farm, and more walkers came to devour what was left of Patricia. Beth was overwhelmed, but she killed the ones she had to and ran deeper into the field. She couldn't see Daryl still, but she kept running toward the woods, slicing and dicing and screaming, a guttural sound that was more cathartic than out of fear.

She heard another scream mix with hers and looked around to see Dale bit in the neck, he went down and walkers attacked him, relieving her for a moment as they attacked him from all angles. Guts, blood and tendrils of muscle came spewing out of Dale as the walkers devoured him limb by limb.

Beth let out another scream as she dug her knife into the closest walker. Dark blood and brain matter came flying at her, dousing her already stained shirt. She could feel the blood soaking her hair to her face and the smell of rotting flesh was overwhelming.

Walkers kept coming; the fresh meat enticed them toward her. She killed one walker after the other, as they kept coming she started to kick them down too. She stomped down on the skulls of the ones who fell. Blood spattered everywhere and the crunch of skulls only egged her on instead of disgusting her.

The dead fell around her, but as they fell more replaced them. She thought of Hercules fighting Hydra, the nine-headed water-serpent who would grow two heads every time one was cut from her body. _Focus!_ She told herself as she continued to slaughter the walkers, letting out more guttural screams.

Her voice was suddenly drowned out by the sound of an engine roaring to life. _Daryl_. She kept fighting, knowing he would come for her. She thought for a moment about how crazy that was.

The first time her father's farm was overrun, she'd never spared a second thought for the redneck. But she'd seen the changes in him on the porch that night, and she trusted him with every fiber of her being, just as she had in the funeral home.

She kept running, kept killing until Daryl's bike came into view. "C'mon," he screamed, "I ain't got all day."

She jumped on the bike behind him as a herd of walkers crept closer; wrapping her arms around his waist she yelled, "Let's go!" And off they went. Away from her childhood home, overrun with the walking dead.

Now that she was on the bike, she could feel herself hyperventilating. She tried to steady her breathing as her chest rubbed against Daryl's vest. She rested her cheek against the angel wings stitched into the leather, trying to force her heart to stop running its own race. Matted blonde hair swirled all around her, and she tightened her arms around the man's waist.

•••

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Chapter V sneak peek:**

Beth already knew the answer. She'd lived this reunion before, been through the heartache of learning who they'd lost. It was the same exact group as before, even with Dale surviving until the ambush of walkers. She couldn't save anyone from this.

"The RV was overrun," Daryl mumbled in response to Rick's account that Jimmy had taken the RV. The group finally fell quiet as each person thought of those they'd lost and what had happened on the safest piece of land they had. "I'm goin' back."

This time Beth stepped forward in objection. "Daryl, you can't." Her face was reddened with her sudden outburst, embarrassed as the rest of their group turned to look at her. "It's no use," she went on, speaking directly to him, "I—we can't lose you, too."

"She's right, Daryl," Rick agreed, and then looked at the rest of their group, trying to figure out what to do next.

Daryl glanced around, too, his eyes settling on Carl whose face was screwed up with unanswered questions. Kids always found the loopholes before anyone else, and as Daryl watched Carl, he realized that the younger one couldn't make two ends meet. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it until he did, and he spoke up suddenly. "Hey, Dad, did Shane get bit?"


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okayyy I didn't get to replying to all of your lovely reviews. Just know we're reading them, we're squealing over them, and we love y'all :D Don't forget the tumblr stuff, aspaceformymuse (SYIH art!); seeyou-inhindsight; trainedbydaryl (Rhia); and andytots (Kait)! **

•••

Daryl thrived on adrenaline. His release of energy was empowering. He could have been dead asleep when the wave of walkers washed over the farm and he'd still be able to fight them close-mindedly and as if he was holding his breath. With every kill, by gunshot or by a quick jab to the head with a knife, Daryl felt more alive. The fight heightened his senses and quickened his thoughts, which were centered on his and his group's safety—but also on Beth and her whereabouts. He'd seen her run off with Patricia in the distance, but he lost sight of her as the two took on small ambushes of their own.

Again, Daryl was confused by his concern for the girl. He felt as if he'd known her for a really long time; like they were old friends and having her alive was the most important thing to him now. Above everyone else in their group. He just felt a connection to her he hadn't felt with anyone else since before the outbreak, and he couldn't begin to explain it to even himself—after all, they'd only shared one conversation.

Circling around the property, Daryl made his way down the driveway. He passed the RV, which was overrun by walkers, and finally caught a glimpse of Beth as she took down two walkers and continued onward. Revving his bike's engine, he sped up toward her and came to a skidding halt beside her. "C'mon!" he'd called over the mayhem.

When he felt Beth's arms wrap tightly around him, he lifted his feet and let go of the brake, keeping his brother's bike balanced as it picked up speed down the driveway. He followed the same path to the main road and headed for the nearest highway, getting out of town being the only thing set in his mind. As he drove silently away from the destruction and chaos of the farm, he felt Beth's cheek settle against his back and her arms squeeze him. Her hands groped at his shirt, searching for security, for comfort, for anything.

Maybe she felt it, too, the connection that seemed to pull the two together…a force that fate could only control.

He leaned back against her gently and dropped one of his hands to grasp hers reassuringly. "We'll be okay!" he shouted over the wind whipping past them and the roar of the engine.

While fighting on the farm, Daryl hadn't realized just how much time was passing; but as they drove for what seemed such a short amount of time, the sun slipped above the horizon and lit the sky before them.

Beth poked at his side to get his attention and he grunted in response. "Daryl," she began, lifting her head to look up at him as he drove, "we gotta go back. There's gotta be others. I think I saw T-Dog, Carol, an' Lori get out in the truck."

_She had to be right_,Daryl thought to himself as he took the next turn in order to double back to the interstate where the group had originally been trapped in a graveyard of abandoned cars. They couldn't have been the only ones to find an exit through the flock of walkers, and the interstate seemed like a proper meeting place. If Daryl knew Rick Grimes at all, it'd be where he would go first; and finding Rick would be better than not going back at all.

So, he drove in the direction of the highway, one hand closed around Beth's and his other keeping the bike steady down the deserted road.

•••

As Daryl and Beth closed in on the highway, another car came into view…a familiar mint green SUV. He pointed ahead at it and accelerated, veering right to pass it and see who occupied the driver's and passenger's seats.

"Maggie!" Beth yelled her head turning back as Daryl took the lead. "Glenn, too!"

The cavalcade took the exit onto the highway and spotted the red and white truck from the farm. Daryl crossed the grassy median and came to a stop in front of Rick, Hershel, and Carl. As soon as he parked the bike, Beth hopped off to reunite with Hershel and her sister, and Rick approached to clasp hands with him before greeting his wife, who'd been in the blue truck following close behind Glenn and Maggie.

Rick peeled himself away from his family and stepped into the center of the circle that had naturally formed. "Where'd you find everyone?"

His question was directed at Daryl, who lifted a pointed finger at Glenn and let out a quiet chuckle. "Got his taillights zigzagging all over the road, figured he had to be Asian drivin' like that."

A unison laugh came from the others in the group and Glenn nodded a few times. "Good one."

"Where's the rest of us?" Daryl asked as he tallied up who'd arrived. They were missing quite a few like Dale, Patricia, and Jimmy…Shane and Andrea. His heart plummeted into his stomach.

"We're the only ones who've made it so far." It was Rick who'd answered for the rest of the group.

Lori stood up from hugging Carl and stepped forward, concern painted across her face. "Shane?" But Rick simply shook his head. _Two gunshots_, Daryl thought, immediately figuring out that Rick had killed Shane and that those shots brought the walkers onto the farm in the first place.

"Andrea?" asked Glenn, who received an immediate response from Carol. "She saved me, but then I lost her."

"Saw her go down," T-Dog followed up as if calling the girl's time of death for the rest of them. A confirmation no one wanted to hear.

"Patricia?" Hershel added, the truth sewn into his voice because he knew already that she didn't make it. Beth shook her head slowly, though, and hugged him again.

"No, Daddy," she began explaining, "I was with her and they got her, too. Her and Dale…what about Jimmy?"

Beth already knew the answer. She'd lived this reunion before, been through the heartache of learning who they'd lost. It was the same exact group as before, even with Dale surviving until the ambush of walkers. She couldn't save anyone from this.

"The RV was overrun," Daryl mumbled in response to Rick's account that Jimmy had taken the RV. The group finally fell quiet as each person thought of those they'd lost and what had happened on the safest piece of land they had. "I'm goin' back."

This time Beth stepped forward in objection. "Daryl, you can't." Her face was reddened with her sudden outburst, embarrassed as the rest of their group turned to look at her. "It's no use," she went on, speaking directly to him, "I—we can't lose you, too."

"She's right, Daryl," Rick agreed, and then looked at the rest of their group, trying to figure out what to do next.

Daryl glanced around, too, his eyes settling on Carl whose face was screwed up with unanswered questions. Kids always found the loopholes before anyone else, and as Daryl watched Carl, he realized that the younger one couldn't make two ends meet. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it until he did, and he spoke up suddenly. "Hey, Dad, did Shane get bit?"

The look on Rick's face changed from sorrowful to bewilderment as he contemplated the question, his head tilting to the side as conclusions drew themselves up in his mind. He looked as if he were just punched in the gut, all the wind knocked out of him at his sudden realization. A secret shared between him and his son evidently because as Daryl looked around at the others, he could tell they were all on the same boat named _What The Hell Is Going On?_

"Jenner was right," was all Rick said, his voice was quiet and sounded sort of defeated, but his words only confused Daryl further. "Before we left the CDC, before it blew up, Jenner told me somethin'. I-I didn't wanna believe it."

The tension that had appeared in the group only tightened with Rick's words. Daryl could almost hear the stomachs of those around him churn, chewing over Rick's confession without knowing what it meant. "We're all infected, right?" he asked, trying to make sense of this discussion. He had a feeling he'd heard it before, felt his stomach twist like this before. No matter how they died, they all turned into one of those freaks.

Rick simply nodded in confirmation.

•••

Daryl tried the door and found it unlocked, but instead of throwing it open, he knocked loudly on it and waited. If the lonely, abandoned cabin had any walkers trapped inside, they'd come forward at the noise. It was a trick the group had learned early on in their search for a place to lie down their heads at night. He held his hand up, keeping Rick and Glenn still and quiet, under his control until he was certain the cabin was truly empty. When nothing broke the silence from inside, he opened the door slowly and slipped inside, crossbow raised and loaded.

The stench hit his nostrils before he could actually see what the cabin had to offer. Rotting flesh hadn't always been an odor Daryl recognized, but ever since the dead walked again, it was one that he couldn't erase from his memory. It was like the smell of popcorn, he always knew what was creating the aroma. Beside him, Glenn dry heaved and quickly covered his mouth and nose with his empty hand, his gun still at the ready for any surprises.

A small family had opted out in their living room, their bodies sprawled around a rug and their guns dropped beside them. It was a sight one would have trouble erasing from their minds, but it was also a common thing to come across. Daryl glanced around the room quickly noting a broken window, a wood burning fireplace, and a staircase that led to the upstairs. Another door went out the back directly across from the front door and a kitchen veered off to the left. "Saw a shed out back," he mentioned quietly, still observing the cabin at first glance. "I think this is a huntin' cabin. Pretty big, but if the whole family did it…"

He moved forward through the house immediately taking the steps up to the second floor where he found three bedrooms and a bathroom. The bedrooms were small, but each had a double-sized bed, which was an improvement from their makeshift tents they slept in now. He returned to the ground floor and turned down another hall to find a master bedroom and another bathroom. Through another door, Daryl found steps to the basement, which he entered while turning on his flashlight.

The basement confirmed his suspicions as he found a gun safe and a wall of hooks where camouflage gear was hung. Nothing in this cabin was touched so far, so he wondered if the safe was full of weapons. All they needed was the combination. Taking the steps two at a time, Daryl met back up with Rick and Glenn in the living room with the desire to make this place their own for now. It was safe, probably the safest place they'd get for the winter.

"What do you think?" Rick turned to ask Daryl, including him in his and Glenn's conversation.

Daryl began answering by pointing up. "Three rooms, three beds big enough for two. Maggie and Glenn, Beth and Hershel, Carol and T-Dog. You, Lori, and Carl can have the room back there, and I'll take the couch. Gun safe in the basement, combo's gotta be written down somewhere in here.

"It'd be good for us. Especially for Lori. All we gotta do is clean out the bodies and let the place air out while we go back for the rest of the group," he concluded with a shrug of his shoulders. "Or we can keep sleepin' in tents on the ground."

And with Glenn's and Rick's agreement, the trio began clearing out the cabin.

•••

Lori Grimes held her growing baby bump as she waddled through the cabin, which had a notable smell of corpse. Her son was at her side, lugging her things over his shoulder with some struggle, but he insisted on helping her move into their own bedroom. The rest of the group was doing the same, except for Daryl, who didn't have much to pile on top of the coffee table he moved closer to his couch. The bloodstained rug had been rolled up and burned with the bodies during the cleanout, making the living space look a lot larger than it really was.

Satisfied with his room, Daryl moved on to the kitchen where he rummaged the drawers for the safe's combination. It had to be somewhere, even if the combination was memorable by the family. They had to have it written down somewhere, especially with how sacred hunting seemed to be to them. He quickly found the junk drawer that held papers and pens, notebooks and batteries, junk that didn't have a specific spot in a house besides in this drawer.

"Whatcha searchin' for?" a voice startled Daryl, making him shiver from head to toe. He turned to find Beth approaching him with a curious look on her face. "Need a spatula?"

He shook his head and sighed quietly, going back to his search for the safe's combination. "There's a gun safe downstairs. I'm hopin' it ain't cleaned out already, but we need a combination if we plan on getting in it."

"Is it like a locker lock?" the girl asked, a smile spreading quickly across her lips. "'Cause those ones are easy, ya just need a stethoscope and some patience."

Daryl paused and looked at Beth, disbelief evident on his face. He always thought that was fiction, a method invented by Hollywood to depict burglars as masterminds, but here was Beth claiming that she could do it with a smile that told him she wasn't kidding either. "Your dad still got his?" he asked, liking the idea of being the girl's accomplice in cracking open the safe.

Within minutes of his question, Daryl found himself in the basement, holding the chest piece of the stethoscope against the safe while Beth listened and shifted the dial around. She already knew the combination from her first go around before being sent back to the farmhouse, but playing along was fun, too; especially with Daryl so eager to help her out. She'd done it before with Maggie's safe while she was off at college, and used the money she collected slowly to buy herself a keyboard piano. But that safe didn't have as many combinations as this one, so she played it up a little.

"Move your thumb," Beth demanded as she spun the dial forward slowly. "It's picking up your pulse."

She smiled up at him and took his fingers, readjusting them so that he held the piece between his forefinger and middle finger. "Like a cigarette," she explained, and then tapped the smaller end between his fingers. "That's for pediatrics. Picks up sound, too."

As time ticked by, she reversed the way she turned the dial and then finally finished with the third turn, hearing the lock click into place. "All done," Beth announced, pulling the earpieces out of her ears and letting them wrap around her neck. "Try it."

Daryl allowed the chest piece to drop and dangle from Beth's neck as he turned the vault wheel and the safe opened. "You gotta be shittin' me," he commented in awe at her talents. Peering inside, he found thirteen rifles, a variety of pistols, and ammo. Lots of ammo. Copious amounts of ammo. So much ammo, he could bathe in it.

"Wow! We hit the jackpot," Beth exclaimed as she counted the weapons and added the five guns they'd found with the family. "Oh, and Daryl? Maybe the combo is in the spice cabinet upstairs? I know that's where my Daddy kept important things back at the house. Could be taped under the bottom shelf? I dunno."

"It don't matter now, Beth," Daryl replied, reaching in for one of the pistols. "Go get Rick. He's gonna piss himself with joy."

•••

**And here's the preview for Chapter 6! Enjoy!**

"_Gloves, hats, anything you can find, okay?" Rick said as he handed over the list with a bag of snacks and water for the road. "I'll probably take T-Dog and Glenn out for more firewood today."_

_Daryl nodded a few times and glanced over the list before shoving it into his pocket. "Sounds good. We'll take the Hyundai. Maybe siphon some gas on the way back, too."_

_"I'm ready!" Beth butted into the conversation a little too loud and eager, probably. She cleared her throat, "I mean, yeah, we should definitely make sure and get some gas while we're out."_

_Daryl turned to face Beth and without a single word, he pulled his poncho up over his head and handed it to the girl. "You ain't going nowhere without something heavier than that," he commented with a pointed nod to her cardigan. He gave her a smile and then looked back at Rick. "Should be back by dusk."_

_And with that, Daryl grabbed the keys to the green SUV and his crossbow before heading out the front door of their cabin with Beth at his heels. "Got a knife and a gun?" he asked as he loaded up the car and climbed into the driver's seat._

_Beth was still blushing from neck to forehead under the weight of his poncho. It smelled like him — a mix of the outdoors and musk that made her heart race. As she took her spot in the passenger seat, she fumbled around the poncho to check that her weapons were secured to her pants._


	7. Chapter 6

Beth had been thinking about the night the farm fell since it happened, even months later when they were still searching for a shelter and battling for their lives every day. She knew most people were too busy fighting for their own lives that night, but she'd shown skill beyond anything that could be chalked up to "natural ability." It had been easy to disguise her training from Daryl while moving around, though that surprised her. They hadn't encountered much where the group even needed her help, and they mostly dismissed her when she did attempt to help. But she also knew when they got the prison, not if, that she would need to have a response when someone questioned her uncanny ability to knife down some walkers. Beth had been planning what she'd say for a while, knowing Daryl was the only person she wanted to train her — but unsure of how he would react to her question.

Once they settled into the cabin, she knew the time had come to step up and ask. After spending the first few weeks cleaning and cooking and helping Lori take care of herself, she was about ready to split her own head open. The months with Daryl, fending for their lives together, trusting each other, every day, it was hard to resume her role as associate den mother. A particularly trying day of Lori flitting around obsessing over house work, and night of no one even caring about the work they did that day because they had much more important things to worry about, like their lives, Beth was ready. She went to bed with Hershel, as they were sharing a room, and stared up at the ceiling until her father's breathing steadied and light snores bubbled from his lips.

Slipping out from between the sheets, she tiptoed out of the room, and down the stairs. Beth tried to be as quiet as possible, but knew she couldn't sneak up on Daryl; mostly she was worried about waking the others. Daryl was sprawled out on the couch, but she could tell he was awake after spending months alone with him, even sleeping next to him on particularly cold nights. But his face was positioned away from her, so she called out a whisper, just to alert him, and even though she knew he heard her coming. "Daryl? You awake?"

"Yeah, always," he grumbled softly and sat up to look at her. He patted the spot next to him on the couch, inviting her to take a seat. Once she moved around the couch and sat down, Daryl yanked his blanket out from under him and offered her half of it, to join his cornucopia of warmth.

Beth happily accepted the other half of Daryl's blanket, resisting the urge to just curl up next to his body, knowing they fit together like the last two pieces of a puzzle. Equal parts nervous and excited, admittedly, the conversation was already going better than expected.

"What's got you up?" he asked.

Crossing her legs underneath her, Beth tried to steady her heart before speaking. "I've been thinking about that night on the farm," she paused and shifted her gaze to the fire, "I could've easily died that night if not for you. And I feel like we're safe here, at least for a little while. I never would've asked while we were living day-to-day with only rattling cans to protect us, but now that we're here. I was-uhm-I was wondering if you could give me a few pointers on protecting myself?"

After staring at the fire for most of her admission, Beth finally looked toward Daryl, to study his face and reaction. "I mean," she went on to add, realizing how the question might be construed, "I just want to be able to pull my weight, and maybe even protect other people . . ."

"We can do that," he replied as soon as Beth finished explaining that she not only wanted to protect herself, but the others in the group.

He glanced at Beth with a smile, and then lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "You had gun training at the farm and you're good with a knife," he reasoned, alluding to what he'd seen during the farm ambush and while they were on the road. "Maybe we can get you some bow training. Just gotta find a bow."

"You mean I can't just borrow yours?" Beth giggled to herself and nudged him playfully in the side with her elbow. "Where would we find one though?"

"Could check Walmart," Daryl suggested. He turned over under the blanket and leaned against the back of the couch, head resting on the cushion and knees tucked into his chest. "Might find you a compound bow or something. And if not, I'll let you borrow mine."

Beth adjusted to face Daryl, pushing herself up with her legs as she peered over his knees. She wobbled a little underneath the softness of the cushions. Placing an arm on Daryl's knee to balance herself, she rested her chin on that arm and looked him in the eye. "I'm ready to go whenever you are . . . after we both get some sleep of course," she smiled her trademark thousand-watt smile.

"Thanks, Daryl." Beth used his knees to push off the couch, and absentmindedly trailed her hand across the tops of his knees when she got to her feet, and went to leave. "See you in the morning," she murmured quietly, before heading back toward the stairs to the bedroom she shared with her father.

•••

Daryl hadn't slept much after Beth went back upstairs. Now he was thinking about the coming morning when they'd go on a run together in search of a weapon for her. He liked her company—actually really enjoyed it, so he knew this run wouldn't be like all the others he'd gone on with Rick and Glenn. But he also knew this run couldn't only be for a bow, so he'd started a list of what the group might still need:

_- blankets_

_- clothes for lori and growing belly_

_- food_

_- bow_

_- arrows_

Later on when Rick's alarm could be heard from down the hall, Daryl rolled off his couch, folded up his blanket, and headed for the kitchen table. There, he met up with his friend to explain what he and Beth were doing that day and asked him to add things to the list before they headed out for the morning. Leaving the list for Rick, Daryl went upstairs to wake Beth up so that she could get ready.

A gruff voice and light touch jolted Beth from her dream and she was thankful for it. Most nights she dreamt of all the deaths still yet to come in one gory, depressing montage. Waking up to Daryl's face hovering over her was only second to waking up to Daryl's face lying next to her. Daryl left after she was sufficiently awake, and Beth quickly dressed for the run, she had a thin cardigan sweater that would definitely not last her the winter, and made a mental note to grab a jacket while they were at Walmart. She rushed downstairs to catch the last part of Rick and Daryl's conversation.

"Gloves, hats, anything you can find, okay?" Rick said as he handed over the list with a bag of snacks and water for the road. "I'll probably take T-Dog and Glenn out for more firewood today."

Daryl nodded a few times and glanced over the list before shoving it into his pocket. "Sounds good. We'll take the Hyundai. Maybe siphon some gas on the way back, too."

"I'm ready!" Beth butted into the conversation a little too loud and eager, probably. She cleared her throat, "I mean, yeah, we should definitely make sure and get some gas while we're out."

Daryl turned to face Beth and without a single word, he pulled his poncho up over his head and handed it to the girl. "You ain't going nowhere without something heavier than that," he commented with a pointed nod to her cardigan. He gave her a smile and then looked back at Rick. "Should be back by dusk."

And with that, Daryl grabbed the keys to the green SUV and his crossbow before heading out the front door of their cabin with Beth at his heels. "Got a knife and a gun?" he asked as he loaded up the car and climbed into the driver's seat.

Beth was still blushing from neck to forehead under the weight of his poncho. It smelled like him — a mix of the outdoors and musk that made her heart race. As she took her spot in the passenger seat, she fumbled around the poncho to check that her weapons were secured to her pants.

"Check." She took a deep breath as they headed away from the cabin. "Do you know where the Walmart is?"

Daryl shook his head at her question. "Figured we'd just drive into town," he started, digging blindly in the backseat for the book of CDs the group had collected over the few months they'd been on the road, "go from there. Here, put a disc in. I can't drive in silence."

After handing the CDs over to Beth, Daryl focused back on the empty road with both hands on the wheel. "How'd you sleep last night?" he asked.

Flipping through the CDs contemplatively, she opened her mouth to answer Daryl before closing it again. She'd almost told him about her dream. Instead, "Daddy snores, and tosses around in his sleep more than he used to." She shrugged as she found a Brad Paisley CD and stuck it into the slot. The country twang filled the car and Beth smiled. "How did you sleep?"

"I didn't," Daryl answered truthfully, yawning as if to prove it to her. "I couldn't. Mind kept going. That couch isn't the most comfortable couch either. I've slept on concrete floors with more support than that thing."

Beth frowned. She wished she could kick her father out of the bed and share one with Daryl, as much as a pipe dream as that was. "Maybe we should start swapping out who sleeps on the couch? We wouldn't want you getting too exhausted to use that bow of yours."

He chuckled quietly and shook his head. And she let it go, choosing to stare out the window instead. As trees whirled past them, Beth spotted a familiar structure. She had to keep herself from bouncing in her seat when she saw the prison. "Hey Daryl, look at that," she pointed toward his side of the road.

"Looks like a prison," Daryl said with a tone that suggested he had no idea where she was going with this.

"I bet that would be a safe place, somewhere we could set up for good."

"Bet it's overrun with walkers," Daryl responded gruffly.

Beth shook her head in disagreement. "It would be a great place for Lori to have the baby. I'm gonna mention it to Rick when we get back."

•••

Sometime later, they pulled into the parking lot of a Walmart and Beth scanned the lanes and really took in how desolate it was. There hadn't been one in her town, but she'd seen the way the lots were always packed driving through other towns, and even the mom and pop grocery store she grew up with was always busy. A few walkers lingered on the edges of the lot, but Daryl drove straight to the front door and parked, since there wasn't really a reason to follow the painted lanes.

They stepped out and, with no immediate danger in sight, knocked on the glass doors, waiting a few beats for the sound of rustling feet and, hearing none, entered the store. The smell of rotten meat filled her nose and she gagged, but it was different from the stench of walkers. It was more like the deli aisle had been left to rot after the generators died. As they made their way toward the back where the hunting gear would be, they stopped at the clothes section and grabbed wintery things for both the men and women of their group. Daryl filled a bag with random clothing while Beth went ahead of him to pick things out for each person. She was particular about it, giving each item to a specific person before handing them off to him to stuff into his bag — a scarf for Maggie because she'd love it, and a pair of sweatpants for Lori because they were large and drawstring. Beth spotted the baby section, and immediately saw a cute onesie that said, "Daddy's little hunter," and smiled as she picked it up, turning toward Daryl. "Wouldn't this be cute for Rick and the baby?"

He smiled and nodded before stuffing it into the bag as well. As the two rounded a corner, they finally found the hunting section, which was thinned out dramatically. Almost nothing littered the shelves besides useless equipment created for high class hunters.

"Damn," Daryl commented, turning down the first aisle that once had fishing rods and lures. "Hope we find a bow. Hope people thought they'd be useless in this shit." At the end of the aisle, a container full of arrows sat at the bottom of a shelf, left untouched. "Boo ya! C'mere, Beth."

As the girl approached, he motioned for her to turn around so that he could pack her bag full of arrows, as many as he could fit into it because they needed all they could carry. "Now, we just need a bow and a quiver for you."

With her back turned to the man, her face screwed in confusion. "A quiver?" she asked toward the empty aisle, taking it in, thinking about all of the other people who had come through this same place and looted everything. She wondered if those people had made it, if they had been able to put their findings to good use. "I don't know much about bows, Daryl," she added quickly. When Daryl had trained her before, there was never much hope that they'd happen upon a second bow, that she would need her own supplies. Hell, most of the time he'd had to cock it back for her to shoot.

The familiar shuffling and gurgling of the undead drowned out his response, and they were both at attention instantaneously. A gaggle of walkers came around the corner, no more than five. Before Beth could even unsheathe her knife, Daryl took out two of the farther ones with one arrow. Beth went toward the closest walker, put her hand on its chest and drilled her knife into its skull. Together, they defeated the last few.

They paused for a moment after taking out the walkers, waiting and listening to see if there were more to come. When Daryl determined that they were alone again, he went back to his explanation. "Just holds the arrows," he muttered and showed her the one attached to his own bow, "they come like this or the one you can strap to your back."

Walking forward, he stepped over the dead walkers, yanked his arrow out of one, and peered around the end of the aisle before continuing on to the next one. He walked nonchalantly, a small bounce in his step as he window-shopped through the empty shelves. Humming three notes, he swayed back and forth and rounded another corner, causing Beth to stop dead in her tracks when the first three notes came from his lips. Her heart stopped as quickly as her footsteps and the breath she had been taking hitched in her throat.

How could he possibly know that song? It was her song? Beth convinced herself it was her imagination, and he'd been humming something else, when he started actually singing the lyrics. "Beer to shotgun," Daryl sang quietly and off-key before going back to humming. "We'll be good…HELL YEAH!" He cut himself off as he spotted a small compound bow hanging on a shelf. "Perfect size for you, Beth."

As he handed her the bow, she didn't even look at it, it felt natural in her hands but her eyes were locked on the man in front of her, oblivious of how he had just knocked her understanding of the world off kilter. "How-how do you know that song?" she asked, ignoring his excitement over the bow.

He responded by lifting his shoulders. "On the radio or somethin'. S'all I know of it, why?" he asked.

"It's nothing," she mumbled under her breath, but found that she couldn't look at him, she didn't know what to say or how to say it, and so she turned her attention to the bow. She played with its weight in her hands and turned away from Daryl. It felt as natural as her knife, and with her small knowledge of having used Daryl's a few times, she was able to cock it herself, without an arrow in it of course, and looked through the sight. "And we'll buy a beer to shotgun, and we'll lay in the lawn, and we'll be good," she sang quietly under her breath as she practiced pulling the string of the bow back and forth, and aiming with it.

"Yeah! That's it, that's the song," Daryl half-exclaimed. "Probably heard it on the radio; I had one of those, you know? I ain't completely feral," the man laughed lightly, but Beth mostly ignored him.

She let out a deep breath, and turned on her heel. "It's perfect," she said of the bow."Did we need to get anything else?"

Daryl pulled out the list he and Rick put together. "We should grab some blankets and what we can of food," he said before crumpling the paper and tossing it to the ground, "canned goods or something. Can't live off deer meat forever, especially now. It's gettin' too damn cold to be out there hunting."

Daryl loaded his crossbow, slipped his bag over his shoulder, and continued down the aisle in search of a back quiver for Beth. "Once we got that shit, we can go."

•••

Beth had mostly kept to herself as they searched the rest of the store, grabbing more supplies for the group, and headed back toward the car. She was lost in her own thoughts. How could he possibly know that song unless he remembered too? But he seemed so oblivious, like he actually didn't know where that song came from. It was all just too much for Beth, and she leaned her head on the window of the car for most of the ride home.

As they reached the cabin, Beth had already gotten the supplies she could carry together. She was out of the car before Daryl could even attempt to collect his things. She turned to look at him before closing the door.

"I wrote that song you were singing earlier, by the way, Daryl," she said calmly, before heading toward the cabin, leaving the man stunned silent in her wake.

* * *

><p>Preview to Chapter VII:<p>

"Easier than it seems," he commented, passing the bow and the release off to the girl. "The step-by-step thing makes sense once you do it."

"Like firing a gun," Beth mused, remembering how technical it seemed when Rick had explained it to the beginners. The loading and the safety and the cocking and the aiming and the shooting. It all became easy after a few rounds.

Daryl nodded once and handed her an arrow. He stepped up behind her, gripped her shoulders, and turned her toward one of the targets on a tree trunk. "You'll want to pick a point to draw to each and every time you pull back," he added, lifting a finger to her right cheek and stroking just beneath her cheekbone. "Right here. Draw back to there, string straight, left arm straight, left hand loose on full draw. Aim, release."

He watched as Beth loaded the arrow, attached the release, and secured the strap by the handle, which she held tightly as she drew the arrow back. She struggled a little, not used to the tension of the string, and relaxed without fully pulling it back. "Relax completely," Daryl instructed before she could pull back again, his hands instinctively grasping her wrists gently to stop her. "The string can derail if you redraw without releasing completely."

"I got it, Daryl," she argued, pulling her arms out of his grip. She rolled her shoulders back, pulled hard on the string, breathed like he had, and let her finger graze the trigger, releasing the arrow. Like he had done, she paused for a second before dropping the bow. Her arrow missed the target and struck another tree trunk off to the side. "Screw it."


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm so sorry I'm still not personally responding to reviews. I can't promise I will anymore, but know they're all being read and Rhia and I enjoy hearing from you all. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always don't forget about the tumblrs: seeyou-inhindsight ; trainedbydaryl ; andytots ; aspaceformymuse (art for every chapter!)**

•••

Daryl Dixon had been appointed the group's hunter ever since the farm was overrun by walkers. Just like he had been in the original group before they were forced out, too. He had a skill for it, having grown up fending for himself for what seemed like his entire childhood. Hunting came naturally to him, the same way that nurturing came to mothers — you know, the ones not intoxicated 90 percent of their waking lives. But no matter how naturally tracking and shooting down animals was for him, he wasn't always successful. In the beginning, his neck bore a string of squirrels every morning and his arms a deer every few weeks. But it was late in the season now and only deer were stupid enough to come out in the cold, which of course didn't mean he'd get one.

Early mornings became routine to him. He'd wake well before dawn, bundle up, and head out to his makeshift perch hidden in a tree. From there, he could see a mile or so out through bare trees that camouflaged brown animals well. His weapons sat beside him, as silent as he was. At the start of the season, he carried his crossbow and a pellet gun they'd found in the safe, but now he carried just his crossbow.

The thing that Daryl liked most about hunting was the tranquility. It was peacefully quiet out in the woods, which left room for his thoughts to cycle. It was refreshing. When he spent the morning thinking, he spent the night sleeping.

He'd started training Beth a few days after their run, but up until then, she had kept to herself. Women never made sense to Daryl, and Beth was definitely included in that observation. The night before their run had gone so well that he thought he was finally able to call the girl his friend. They had a relationship like none that he had with others in the group. A simple glance from Beth told him so much. And that bubbly feeling in his gut he'd woken up with in the field was still present. If anything, it'd gotten stronger and made him lightheaded when she smiled at him.

Yet she closed herself off, putting him in the dog house without him really understanding why. Her words echoed in his mind as he sat in his tree, eyes peeled and ears piqued for any hint of movement. _I wrote that song you were singing_. What did it mean? Had the girl actually written it? Daryl still had no idea where he'd heard it before and his only memory of it now was when Beth sang it in the aisle at Walmart. It puzzled him, but he was afraid to bring it up to her, afraid to be met with those accusing eyes again. Did she think he read it in her journal or something? How the hell would he know the tune?

The entire thing baffled him, but he was happy, relieved really, to see that she'd let it go and asked him to start training.

"I ain't gonna lie," he started as he and Beth went out the back door to enter the course he'd set up earlier that morning, "I ain't used a compound bow in years."

Beth nodded and Daryl watched her take in the various targets he'd constructed. A few were nailed to trees, and others nailed to pillowcases filled with garbage. He'd even set up a dead walker he'd found in the woods for target practice, that one being the smallest he'd made.

He held out his hand for the bow, attached the release to his right wrist, and then toyed with the bow for a minute. "Never dry fire," he muttered, and then looked up at Beth. "Don't draw back fully and release without an arrow. String'll snap you in the face and it don't feel good."

Holding up the bow so that she could follow along, he pointed at each part she needed to know and understand. "Arrow clicks in here, between the knots. The loop attaches to the release. Arrow sits in its rest." Before moving on, he loaded an arrow and slipped his hand through the strap by the handle. "Keeps it from rocking when you draw back and fire."

Daryl attached the release to the loop and drew back, lining his fingers up under his cheekbone, his point. "Left hand loose. If you grip the bow, you'll snap the string." He inhaled deeply, aimed at the walker's head, and pressed the trigger on his exhale, holding still for a moment before bringing the bow down to look at his shot. The arrow stuck out of the walker's head, which lolled to the side now from the force.

"Easier than it seems," he commented, passing the bow and the release off to the girl. "The step-by-step thing makes sense once you do it."

"Like firing a gun," Beth mused, remembering how technical it seemed when Rick had explained it to the beginners. The loading and the safety and the cocking and the aiming and the shooting. It all became easy after a few rounds.

Daryl nodded once and handed her an arrow. He stepped up behind her, gripped her shoulders, and turned her toward one of the targets on a tree trunk. "You'll want to pick a point to draw to each and every time you pull back," he added, lifting a finger to her right cheek and stroking just beneath her cheekbone. "Right here. Draw back to there, string straight, left arm straight, left hand loose on full draw. Aim, release."

He watched as Beth loaded the arrow, attached the release, and secured the strap by the handle, which she held tightly as she drew the arrow back. She struggled a little, not used to the tension of the string, and relaxed without fully pulling it back. "Relax completely," Daryl instructed before she could pull back again, his hands instinctively grasping her wrists gently to stop her. "The string can derail if you redraw without releasing completely."

"I got it, Daryl," she argued, pulling her arms out of his grip. She rolled her shoulders back, pulled hard on the string, breathed like he had, and let her finger graze the trigger, releasing the arrow. Like he had done, she paused for a second before dropping the bow. Her arrow missed the target and struck another tree trunk off to the side. "Screw it."

Daryl reacted quickly by walking around to face her. He held another arrow out with a smile. "Can't be tense, Beth," he advised quietly. Behind her, he noticed her father standing in their bedroom window watching their training. "Y'know when you play piano?" he began again, shifting his gaze from the window to her as he spoke. "And the keys start to feel like they're a part of you? Like your fingers know where to go, which ones to hit, before you do?"

Beth nodded slowly, obviously calming down as he brought music into this, something she understood more than archery. Her furrowed brow softened and she sighed as if she was holding her breath. "Okay. So, trust the bow? Trust my hands?" she asked, finally taking the arrow from him and receiving a nod in response.

She reloaded, shook out her nerves, drew back on the arrow, and released, her arrow striking the target this time.

•••

Daryl startled awake as Beth shook his shoulder. It was early morning, before the sun had risen above the horizon and shined through the living room window, and he had been in a deep sleep. The remnants of his dream still lingered in his thoughts as he sat up quickly and pushed himself away from Beth, resting finally at the other end of the couch where he caught his breath. His chest still ached like his heart had been crushed to pieces and his hands shook as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, expelling the images from his mind. "Holy shit," he mumbled under his breath, his delirium finally fading as he realized where he was and who had woke him.

"Sorry, Daryl," Beth whispered, concern woven in her words as she moved closer to him and took a seat on the couch. "You okay? I didn't mean to startle you."

"Yeah, 'm fine," he replied, his fingertips still massaging the sleep from his face. In truth, he was exhausted and felt as if he'd been hit by a van. Did he even get any amount of sleep? "Just gimme a minute."

After seven weeks of training, Daryl decided that Beth was getting a good hand on archery. She'd always been exceptional, but the second he'd added in moving targets, her timing and aim were off, which depleted her confidence about the whole thing. But she was doing well, better than he ever thought she'd be doing; and so after their last training session, he invited her to go hunting with him the following morning.

Finally fully awake and relaxed after the nightmare he had, Daryl stretched up his arms and extended his legs, cracking his ankles as he yawned. He was definitely a morning person. There was something about the stillness, the crisp freshness of dawn breaking that made him the happiest.

Daryl got to his feet and held a hand out to help Beth up from the couch, which started to sink in under the weight of his slumber. "Just gotta get dressed," he began quietly, "got gear picked out downstairs. Lunch packed on the kitchen table." He reached up and straightened his growing hair, patting it down where it stuck up awkwardly. "Then we can get goin'. Wanna be out before the sun's up."

Tiptoeing around the couch, he led Beth downstairs where he'd picked out a tree-patterned outfit for her to wear. His own was in a pile on the floor where he'd left it the other day. "Shirt's a medium," he explained, holding it up to her before handing it over. "A little big, but the pants should be better. Youngest kid was about your size."

He offered her a smile, which she returned as she held the two articles of clothing in her hands. "Thanks, Daryl."

With a nod, Daryl turned on his toe and headed for his pile of clothes. As he walked, he pulled off his long-sleeved shirt and let it drop to the floor next to the forest green shirt he then picked up. He faced the wall, giving Beth privacy as he pulled on the shirt and slipped out of his sweatpants, only to replace them with the concealing cargo pants he liked to wear. Bending over, he stepped into his boots, laced them up, and adjusted his pantlegs over them.

"Okay," he heard Beth's soft voice behind him, signaling that she was decent. He spun around and gave the girl a smile. He'd done well with sizing and she looked damn cute in her getup.

A little dumbstruck for a few moments, Daryl shook his thoughts away and got down to business as he slipped arrows into his quiver. "Patience," he began, handing some arrows to Beth, "you need patience to hunt. They have t'come to you."

Beth nodded along as he went through his spiel about being quiet and still, but always ready to shoot. All of it was common sense, but he wanted to reiterate it before going out, just so she knew what to expect. "My stand ain't too far into the woods, just gotta get there."

•••

Daryl hadn't realized how small his perch was until Beth was sat next to him on it, taking the spot where he'd usually sit his crossbow. He liked it, though, the close proximity. He could tell, though, that Beth was feeling a bit cramped in the small space. She was rigid, as if trying not to relax against him while he wanted her to so desperately.

They'd made it out before sunrise, which was his goal; and just as the rays filtered through the trees ahead of them, he began to focus more on spotting deer than on the girl beside him. After all, this was about feeding their group. As they waited patiently and the sun rose further into the sky, he couldn't keep his thoughts from wandering back to Beth. And back to the song. The words played over and over in his head, that one line he knew, and what she'd said. "So, that song," Daryl whispered, barely audible over the morning birds. "You wrote it?"

Beth jumped a little as he broke the silence of the beautiful sunrise. Her skin produced goosebumps at his words. "Yeah, I did. A while ago." Beth cleared her throat, unable to meet his eyes. "I've never sang it for anyone . . ."

He nodded his head slowly, accepting it no matter how weird and…well, extraordinary it was for him to have known a song she'd written. One she'd never sung or showed to anyone. He turned toward her a little, their shoulders brushing as he looked at her, his face complacent in thought. "I knew the tune an' all," he went on, somewhat triumphantly. A smile appeared on his lips then and he bumped their shoulders once more. "Maybe we're telepathic or somethin'."

Giggling, Beth rolled her eyes and pinched his side. "Yeah! That makes the most sense, right?" She was laughing, having fun spending time with him, but she still questioned how he knew the song, even the tune of the song. It made her wonder if he did remember, if some part of him felt the connection between them, and he was so nice to her, because somewhere deep down he remembered all the nights spent together alone. But even if he did, he would never admit it, and neither would she. So she kept the spark in her eye as she chuckled next to him and fixed her eyes on the field.

Daryl liked the sound of Beth's laughter and the way her eyes lit up when she smiled at him. It brought a cheeky grin out of him that he hadn't shown since he was a kid. Again, he felt a strong connection to Beth as she pinched his side and he jolted because it tickled. Like she knew that it would, like she'd done it plenty of times before just to taunt him. But that feeling faded quickly as she broke their gaze and focused back on their hunt. He couldn't concentrate, though. His entire mind was wrapped around Beth now, and even as he strained his old and tired eyes to see through trees, he found himself glancing at her every few seconds. "Hope we get something today," he whispered.

"We will," Beth said firmly, letting the echoes of birds fill their silence for a moment. "We will," she repeated, as if speaking the sentiment over and over again would produce an animal from the trees.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, she couldn't tell how long, but the sight of his back kept fighting their way into her thoughts. "So, your back," Beth started, mirroring the words he'd used earlier. "I was-uhm-are you okay?" Her doe eyes turned to him, and while he didn't meet hers, she brought her hand to his.

Daryl's heart seemed to stop for a moment as Beth brought up his scars. He hadn't realized she'd seen them because he was always so careful about it, not liking the confrontation that usually followed. _When had it happened? _He thought back and figured it out quickly. She must have been looking when he changed earlier that morning, a split second glimpse of his past before he covered it up with another shirt, burying it away again. Her hand felt warm against his skin…_her fingers interlaced with his and gripped tightly_. He shook the memory away and looked up at her.

"It's fine, I'm…fine," he replied, lifting his shoulders in a shrug as his brick wall built itself between them on his tiny stand. He let go of his crossbow, which sat between his knees, and closed his hands around hers, grasping it gently.

Her eyes dropped down to their hands, so innocent, yet so intimate. Beth wanted nothing more than to straddle him and wrap her whole body around his, envelop him in the love he deserved. She was still shocked from the sight of his scarred back—no matter how many times she'd seen it—horrified that someone was able to abuse Daryl Dixon in such a way. A hard exterior melted into a soft and warm center, and she was slightly nauseated at the images in her mind of a young Daryl being beaten so viciously.

Beth was trying to find words to comfort him, but words weren't his forte, and even though she could have a way with them, spending those months with Daryl before had shown her that actions meant more than words, even when they were beautiful. The blonde looked over at him, still wanting to hug him, but deciding to just snuggle her face into his shoulder; a hug without moving their hands. "You deserve so much better than that, Daryl," Beth spoke quietly. "I hope you know if you ever did want to talk about it, I'm here."

As the weight of her head sank onto his shoulder, Daryl felt the brick wall crumble slightly; like Beth was forcing herself through it and instead of strengthening the weak spots, he allowed it to happen. He wanted to say something, acknowledge her words and support, but he didn't know how. He only knew that he'd buried his past and wouldn't want to talk about it, didn't _need_ to talk about it.

Instead of trying to form a whispered sentence, he rubbed his thumbs against Beth's silky hands and turned toward her to kiss the top of her head. But he stopped short as he spotted a deer to Beth's left, sniffing the ground as it stepped forward and weaved in and out of the trees. "Beth," Daryl whispered to get her attention, and then pointed silently in the direction of the doe.

When Beth turned to look, a fawn appeared, quietly trying to keep up with its mother. Daryl knew by the way it was limping that it was hurt, but from this distance, he couldn't determine the injury. "Doe, aim for the chest behind the leg, like I taught ya," he instructed before shifting out of her way as she stood and pulled back on her arrow.

The girl aimed and held still for a moment, the arrow drawn back fully and her arm not wavering under the tension of the string. She waited, breathing easily as the doe bent low and nibbled at a blade of grass, and Daryl watched as she lightly pressed the trigger on her release and a clear _thunk_ was heard seconds later. The deer sprang forward, galloping in and out of sight as she navigated the forest and left her fawn behind. "Dammit," Beth whispered, unaware that the deer had fallen a few yards away.

"You're good," Daryl encouraged. He lifted his crossbow and shot the fawn down next as she tried to escape the danger. "She's down."

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Daryl packed up his lunch, gripped the side of his stand, and hopped down like he'd done countless times before. He reached up to assist Beth and once she regained balance, they started toward their kills.

The two found the fawn first, since it was the closest. It had dropped over almost immediately after taking an arrow to the stomach, which Daryl removed gently. The fawn's legs weren't broken to his surprise, but upon turning it over, he found its injury: a walker bite. The meat was torn to the bone and necrotic around the edges as the infection spread. "S'no good," Daryl muttered, a little disappointed in not having the extra bit of meat for their group. Every little parcel counted nowadays.

"We're burying her," Beth stated, stooping down next to him. "We're already gonna eat the mom, we might as well do something nice." The girl started to reach forward to scoop the deer up in her arms, but Daryl stopped her by grabbing her hands gently.

"Wait." He glanced around for a moment in search of a shroud, but settled for his shirt, which he tugged over his head and wrapped around the deer, concealing the wound. "Don't want ya all messy."

He lifted the deer up and straightened, passing the bundle off to Beth before tracking down the doe, which they found deeper in the woods. After checking for bites, Daryl removed the arrow, held her feet together, and hoisted her up over his shoulders before standing up straight again, the weight of the deer making him teeter a bit. He shifted the deer closer to his neck and then nodded once, ready to go.

•••

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Here's the preview for Chapter 8 —**

_Beth picked a different cell on the first floor from last time — the one second farthest away from the back. She pulled her bags on to the lower bunk to start unpacking, and the first things she came to were her two journals. One filled with the past, and the other filled with her worries for the future. She tucked away the old one underneath her mattress and placed the mostly empty one on her side table. But when Carl started to pass hers, she stopped him._

"_Hey, that cell is taken," she called out, putting away the last of her things._

_Carl rounded the corner and hung from the outer wall of her cell coolly. "There's nothing in it."_

"_Well Daryl told me he wanted that one. You can take it up with him."_

_The young man stood tall, faltered a little, and cleared his throat. "No, no, that's okay. What about this one?" He pointed to the cell on the right._

_A hand came up from behind Carl, and clasped his shoulder. "Son, I think your mom wants you next to her, over that way," he pointed with his free hand toward the entrance of the cellblock. Lori could be seen leaning out of her cell and waving. _

_Carl sneaked a last glance at the blonde, before skulking away._


	9. Chapter 8

**Rhia and I have decided to keep the next chapter's preview strictly on the tumblr, which is where you guys can get updates, artwork, playlists, and now previews to the next chapters. follow us there! ****seeyou-inhindsight||tumblr**

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><p>Beth hadn't known how to approach Daryl since the song incident at Walmart. She had kept her distance from him for a while after that, afraid she'd say too much, afraid she already had. But staying away was almost as hard as keeping her mouth shut. Beth's body and soul yearned to be near him. She'd spent most of her time moping around; cleaning this and that, reaching to get spots Lori couldn't reach due to her belly. But as Beth left Daryl to skin the deer they'd caught that day after weeks of training, she bounced into the cabin happy, not only because she'd been successful in the hunt, but more because she had been able to spend a day alone in the woods with the archer.<p>

The group was scattered about having their own conversations, but Beth was looking for the leader.

She found Rick (and Lori) in the kitchen. "Lori, we're eating deer tonight! Daryl and I caught two, actually, but one had been bit. Anyway, Daryl's cleaning the good one now."

"That's great, Beth," Lori responded, bringing a hand to rest on her growing belly, while keeping her eyes on the blonde who beamed back at the both of them, lighting up the whole room. Lori smiled back, "It's good to see you smiling again."

Beth blushed and turned away shyly, hoping they would assume it was because of the deer. "I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about, Rick," she spoke finally, turning her attention to the man.

The husband and wife pair looked at each other. Beth and Rick mostly talked about Carl or the weather, or just some other random chatter. But Beth's stance and air about her had changed from giddy over the deer, to total business when she'd turned to Rick. And that made them pause. "What's on your mind, Beth?" Rick asked.

"When Daryl and I went on that run, we saw this prison," she started, speaking more enthusiastically with her hands now. "Its fences looked to be intact from the road, and Daryl thinks it's overrun by walkers, but if the fences haven't been compromised, not only would that be an ideal place for us to possibly settle down for a while, but a safe place for Lori to have the baby," Beth's eyes motioned toward Lori's ever-fatter belly.

Rick leaned against the wall closest to him, taking in what Beth was telling him. His hands reached to fumble with his beard thoughtfully. He looked from Beth to Lori and back again. "How far was it from here?"

"A 15-minute drive or so," Beth responded, pointing in the direction of the prison through the walls.

Lori looked at Rick; for once since they heard news of the cabin she had pure hope in her eyes. "Rick, it's worth a try."

Beth nodded, "I was thinking they probably have an infirmary, too. Who knows what else."

Rick tilted his head as he took it all in, still petting his beard. "Let me think about it. Talk to Daryl about it." He left the room and out the back of the cabin in search for his right-hand man.

The pregnant woman turned to Beth, "Thank you. I've been worried about delivering this baby for weeks now."

Beth walked forward to embrace Lori with a one-armed hug. "My gut tells me the prison is where we're supposed to be. Rick and Daryl will figure it out and we'll do what we've got to do. But for now, we must prepare dinner."

•••

When the group gathered around the dining table for dinner, it almost felt like someone was having a birthday. There was just such an insatiable energy sizzling amongst them, probably because this was the biggest meal they'd had in over a month. Rick and Hershel sat at either end of the table, with Carl at Rick's left, who was sitting next to Carol, and Glenn next to her with Maggie at his left next to her father. Beth was at Hershel's right and she motioned for Daryl to sit next to her, with T-Dog on his other side, and Lori next to him at Rick's right.

Hershel nodded as the last of the stragglers sat around the table. He grasped hands with his daughters, Glenn grabbed Maggie's happily in return, and Beth reached her palm out to Daryl. He stared at her for a minute and then down at her hand. She didn't blink or hesitate, just nodded at him as if he needed permission for something so innocent. Beth almost giggled as T-Dog and Daryl grasped each other, she could almost hear Merle's snarling jokes in her head at his brother holding hands with a . . . well she dared not even think it. Hershel waited until the whole table was connected, before speaking over them all. "Dear heavenly Father, thank you for giving us another day, for providing food for our bodies and nourishment to our souls. We humbly offer our word to you, oh Lord, and pray that your will be done. Amen."

Some around the table grumbled amen, but as hands were dropped, they immediately began digging into the food in the middle of the table — slices of deer meat, a bowl of mashed potatoes, and green beans. It was practically a feast compared to the beans and rice they'd grown accustomed to during the winter months. Quiet but excited chatter filled the room, but Hershel cleared his throat again. "I just want to brag that my sweet Bethy helped hunt this wonderful meal for us today," as if Beth and "kill" just couldn't be in the same sentence.

"So you stood there looking pretty while Daryl caught dinner?" Maggie teased.

"Hey!" Beth kicked her sister under the table. "I actually killed the lovely meat you're eating, thank you very much."

Daryl grumbled beside her, stuffing his face with food. "She's getting to be a pretty good shot," he agreed with a mouth full of potatoes.

"You two make a pretty good team," Carol admitted, speaking aloud for the first time that night. Everyone at the table turned to her, and her eyes got wider. The subtle bitterness in her tone wasn't as subtle as she'd heard it in her head, apparently.

Daryl nudged the blonde's side, pulling her eyes from Carol. "Yeah, we're pretty good," he said, grinning cheekily. Meeting his eyes made her stomach tighten, and all the guilt she felt from Carol's words faded away.

She smiled back and nodded, catching her father's eye as he stared at the exchange, but said nothing. The group turned to their own conversations as they finished their meal. When Lori started to get up to collect dishes, Rick grabbed her arm to pull her back to the table.

"I wanted to wait until after everyone was finished with dinner to bring this up," Rick said as all eyes turned to him and he cleared his throat before speaking again. "Beth and Daryl saw a prison just a few miles from here on a run recently, and I've spoken to them both about it, thought about it, and it sounds like a good place we might be able to settle down for a while. A place for Lori to have the baby," he intertwined his fingers with his wife and smiled. "And it probably has supplies, a cafeteria, and an infirmary."

"You don't think it'll be picked over?" T-Dog asked and the rest of the group nodded in agreement at his thought.

"The front yard's overrun by walkers," Daryl replied. "I figured no one's tried, but with all the ammo in this place, and our manpower…I think we could handle it."

Rick nodded to Daryl, "Daryl and I are going to go in the morning and make sure the fences are still secure. If all seems well, we'll head out at the end of the week if y'all are all okay with it."

"I think it's worth a look-see, Rick," Hershel said in his gruff twang, putting the conversation to rest.

•••

As the week came to a close, Rick led the group toward the gates of the prison. Daryl and the rest covered the man as he clipped a small hole in the chain link of the outermost fence far off from the entrance. Carol, Glenn, Maggie, T-Dog, Hershel, Beth, Carl and Daryl slipped through the fence as Rick held the wires apart. Lori brought up the rear, as Rick wanted to keep her close, and Rick went through last. Glenn immediately went to work tying the wires back together.

There was a rocky path between the two sets of fences surrounding the prison yard. The group kept close as Glenn finished up the fence, and then headed toward the entrance. Walkers growled from both sides of the fences, following the fresh meat around.

"It's perfect," Rick said, as they reached the opening of the gate. "If we can get that gate closed up there," he pointed with his weapon toward the innermost fence, "prevent more walkers from getting in, we'll take the field by tonight.

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asked, slightly out of breath.

"I'll do it," Glenn stepped in. "You guys cover me."

"No," Maggie shook her head. "It's a suicide run."

Glenn turned to her, "I'm the fastest."

Rick butted in and took charge. "No, you, Maggie, and Carol draw as many as you can over there. Pop 'em through the fence. Daryl, go back to the other tower," he walked around the group, stopping at each person as he mentioned them. "Beth, go with Daryl, you're a pretty good shot," he handed her a gun, even though she still had her bow. They didn't have unlimited arrows. "Take your time. Don't use ammo you don't have to. Hershel, you and Carl take this tower," he pointed at the tower in front of them. As everyone scattered to do his or her jobs, Rick continued, "I'll run for the gate."

Glenn handed him two carabiners to lock the gate, and he, Maggie, Carol and T-Dog started running, yelling, agitating the walkers, who immediately responded and headed toward the noise.

Beth and Daryl took off toward the far tower. They climbed up the stairs and made it toward the railing just as Rick took off toward the inner gate. Without skipping a beat, they each started picking off the walkers around Rick. Bullets and arrows flew around the yard, and Rick made it to the gates, kicked the closest walker in the chest and closed the gate, latching it with the carabiners.

"He did it!" Beth whooped next to Daryl.

The archer threw his left hand in the air and twisted it in a circle, "Light it up," he yelled to the rest of the group.

Rick showed up at the top of the tower closest to the prison, and everyone started shooting, knocking down walkers.

Within half an hour, Rick was shooting the last walker through the face and he surveyed the land triumphantly. Beth and Daryl headed down, and back toward the group and made it to the tower where Hershel and Carl were just as they exited their tower. Hershel clapped Daryl on the back before wrapping his arms around his daughter.

"You okay?" Beth asked Lori as they walked through the gate and into the newly cleared field.

"I haven't felt this good in weeks."

Carol, T-Dog, Maggie and Glenn followed and the former practically skipped into the yard. "Oh! Oh, we haven't had this much space since we left the farm!"

A lone walker's torso lifted up and snarled, but Glenn was right there, with his foot on the walker's back and speared a pole through its skull. The rest of the group was laughing, dancing and whooping at their luck.

By nightfall they had a small fire, and cooked a meal. Daryl stood on top of a turned over car on guard and Rick walked around the perimeter.

"Tomorrow we'll get all the bodies together," T-Dog broke the silence around the campfire. "Want to keep 'em away from that water. Now, if we can dig a canal under that fence, we'll have plenty of fresh water."

"And this soil is good," Hershel added. "We could plant some seed, grow some tomatoes, cucumbers, soybeans." He looked up, spotting Rick, and pointed, "That's his third time around. If there was any part of this inner gate compromised, he'd have found it by now."

Beth watched Carol, as she took a plate to Daryl. She smiled and shook her head to herself before turning back to the group as they continued their small talk. She pretended not to notice as Daryl went to rub her shoulder, but thankfully her father's voice pulled her attention away.

"Bethy, sing Paddy Reilly for me," the blonde looked to her father. "I haven't heard that, I think, since your mother was alive."

"Daddy, not that one please," Maggie spoke up.

Hershel turned to his other daughter and nodded, before looking at the fire. "How about 'The Parting Glass'?"

Beth smiled and nodded at her father. "Of all the money / E'er I had / I spent it in good company / And all the harm / E'er I've done / Alas it was to none but me / And all I've done / For want of wit / To memory now I can't recall / So fill to me / The parting glass / Good night and joy be with you all," the blonde sang to the group and as she started the chorus she noticed Carol and Daryl join the group. She smiled a little under his gaze.

Maggie joined in the song now. "Oh, all the comrades / That e'er I had / Were sorry for my going away / And all the sweethearts," Beth's eyes flashed to Daryl's, who was still staring at her. She blushed, but hoped the dim light of the fire would keep anyone from noticing.

As the song concluded, Hershel was smiling wider than he'd had since the outbreak. And Beth couldn't help but match his look.

"We better turn in. Got a big day tomorrow," Rick addressed the group.

Carl looked at his father, "What do you mean?"

Rick smiled down at his boy. "Look, I know we're all exhausted. This was a great win. But we've got to push just a little bit more," he looked around the group, meeting each person's eyes. "We can handle it, I know it. These assholes don't stand a chance." Rick nodded as he stood, and everyone went about laying out sleeping bags and blankets. Beth saw Lori follow Rick as he left the group and frowned as she went about making a bed for herself. She knew Lori and Rick had problems before, she was hoping things would be better this time. Beth wished she could talk to Rick about it, wished they had a relationship like that. She suspected the tension between him and his wife was what led to his long weeks of guilt after Lori's death. Hopefully, Lori wouldn't die this time.

•••

Clearing out the cell was rather uneventful; it was weird setting up camp in a prison, even the second time around. But the cells felt so secure, almost like they were invincible.

Beth picked a different cell on the first floor from last time — the one second farthest away from the back. She pulled her bags on to the lower bunk to start unpacking, and the first things she came to were her two journals. One filled with the past, and the other filled with her worries for the future. She tucked away the old one underneath her mattress and placed the mostly empty one on her side table. But when Carl started to pass hers, she stopped him.

"Hey, that cell is taken," she called out, putting away the last of her things.

Carl rounded the corner and hung from the outer wall of her cell coolly. "There's nothing in it."

"Well Daryl told me he wanted that one. You can take it up with him."

The young man stood tall, faltered a little, and cleared his throat. "No, no, that's okay. What about this one?" He pointed to the cell on the right.

A hand came up from behind Carl, and clasped his shoulder. "Son, I think your mom wants you next to her, over that way," he pointed with his free hand toward the entrance of the cellblock. Lori could be seen leaning out of her cell and waving.

Carl sneaked a last glance at the blonde, before skulking away.

Chuckling, Hershel turned back toward his daughter. "I think that boy's got a crush on you, honey."

Beth swiped at the air, as if she could push that reality out into the world and away from her. "Oh daddy," she laughed lightly, turning her attention to the man. "There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about," Beth pulled him onto her bunk. "I don't think you should go with them to clear out more cell blocks. I think you should stay with Lori, just in case."

"Oh, dear, the baby's not expected for another few days."

"Now you don't know that daddy," Beth protested.

Hershel put a hand on her forearm, and smiled. "You and Carol could take care of it, if something happens. I believe in you."

Beth felt tears forming in her eyes, but tried to push them back. It wasn't that Hershel believed in her, she'd always known that, it was that he wouldn't listen, and she didn't want his leg to be taken again.

"I'm going. I can do this. It'll be alright, Bethy. We've all got jobs to do," Hershel stood and his hand slipped from her shoulder.

She watched her father walk out of her cell, and she stood. "Daddy wait," he turned. "Watch where you're going, okay? Keep an eye out for your feet."

Hershel smiled at the reference of his old phrase. He always told her that when she tripped over herself. "You know I will, Bethy."


	10. Chapter 9

hey y'all, Rhia here. I just wanted to let you guys know that we really appreciate all of our readers and reviewers. Kaitlin and I absolutely love this story and we love to share it with you guys.

Chapter 9 isn't the best of chapters. I wrote it and I'm not very happy with it because it truly is just a chapter to fill in what's going on aside from canon. I used some lines that were in the episode to show that not every single thing changes when the timeline is messed with, however there are some changes that I brought in.

I also want to let you all know that there may be a Sunday without an update in the near future because Kaitlin is without a computer at the moment, hindering our ability to write and powwow. I hope this isn't true, but I'm just giving a warning.

Enjoy 3

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><p>After a close call involving Hershel's leg and a hungry walker, Maggie insisted on returning to the cell block and staying behind for the rest of the sweep; and she persuaded Glenn to do the same. As the rest of their group cleaned out and settled into cell block C; Daryl, Rick, and T-Dog took the time to search the rest of the prison for supplies. They had two main goals now: food and medical equipment. With Lori's baby on the way, they needed a good stash of pain relievers, antibiotics, and anything else that might aid in the delivery, not to mention blankets for the infant itself—if either of them survived. The entire group understood the risks of the unsanitary delivery. No matter what would happen during it, Hershel wanted Lori and the baby to be safe, so he wrote up a list for Rick for when they found the infirmary.<p>

The prison seemed abandoned, but Daryl had a peculiar feeling in his gut that told him not to be so sure of it. There were some walkers roaming the buildings, but if their group could survive out there, maybe another group was surviving in here, hidden away in a different cell block. He led Rick and T-Dog through the winding hallways expertly; like he already knew the layout of the prison as if it were tattooed on the back of his hand. It was all too familiar for him, though. He felt like he had already navigated those same corridors that swallowed up the entire glow from their flashlights and the gurgling sounds from nearby walkers.

"Cafeteria's this way," Daryl whispered, pointing down a hall that ended in a pair of doors. He turned away from it and shined his light down the opposite way, which was clear of walkers.

T-Dog scoffed, a smirk appearing on his lips as a joke came to him. "Been here before, Dixon?"

"No, but I ain't illiterate," he defended himself, lifting his flashlight toward the sign above the double doors into the _CAFETERIA_.

The trio moved forward with Daryl at the lead, their weapons raised as Rick peered into the cafeteria through a dusty, safety-glass window. "No walkers," he observed before banging on the door three times to draw any hidden geeks forward. When nothing stirred from within, Rick nodded at Daryl, who pulled open the door and slipped inside.

Beyond the entrance and around the corner stood a group of five men dressed in prison garb. In their hands, they held weapons, ready to fight their intruders. Instinctively, Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog drew theirs as well; a standoff until Rick and the man with the long, greasy hair stepped forward as the leaders of their groups. Rick slipped his gun into his holster and waited for the other men to do the same. Before he could start an explanation for their presence, though, Tomas took another defensive step forward.

"You don't look like a rescue team," the man said as he scrutinized Rick, and then Daryl and T-Dog; who in turn, looked at one another questionably.

_Were they seriously waiting for a rescue team?_ Daryl thought, impatiently weaving himself in front of Rick and lifting his crossbow. "Today's your lucky day, fellas," the redneck stated enthusiastically, his bow still at eye level. "You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go."

The prisoners reacted by shuffling back, loudly protesting, and raising their hands in surrender, and Rick grasped Daryl's shoulder, roughly yanking him backward. "This is _our_ prison!" Tomas argued while the others in his group agreed, their voices echoing in the empty cafeteria.

Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog took an innate step backward. At the other end of the cafeteria, another pair of double doors shook violently as walkers piled against it, their mindless babbles carrying into the dining hall and quieting the prisoners' words.

"We cleared out C Block," Rick began explaining as he turned toward the door they'd come through, checking to see if the chaos had brought walkers that way, too. "Walkers, the dead. It's ours now."

Tomas moved forward, holding a pointed finger out at Rick, aggression obvious on his face and in his voice. "Cell four, that's mine," he shouted, stopping right in front of the former cop. "In C Block."

Daryl didn't trust these guys. His stomach squeezed and twisted tightly, warning him against the leader of the opposing group. _Something _told him the prisoners weren't up to anything good. They lived a life of trade, and betrayal. At least those were the only stories Merle had told him. Life as a prisoner was about one thing only: oneself. And when it came down to two groups pinned against one another, oneself became ourselves. He kept his crossbow at the ready while Rick decided to reason with them. "There's plenty of space. We can-"

"No, Rick," Daryl started, cutting his friend off sharply, "we survived months out there. The prison's ours now. Send them packin'. Just five more mouths to feed at the end of the day."

Now Tomas looked to Daryl and thrust his chin up, "Yeah? And where do you expect us to go?"

The archer shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth to give the prisoners another sarcastic comment, but Rick quickly intercepted him. "How long have you guys been here?" he asked, his hand raised toward Daryl to keep his mouth shut. "Here in this cafeteria?"

"Ten months," Tomas answered, turning his attention to Rick. "There were others—they kept dying, and coming back to life…cannibals. A guard locked us in here two hundred and ninety-two days ago, said he'd be right back."

The blond prisoner spoke up quickly to correct Tomas, "Two hundred, ninety-four according to my-"

"Don't matter, Axel."

Daryl was catching on now. This group of prisoners hadn't ever left the cafeteria. That explained the lack of fallen walkers throughout the halls, and why they were almost afraid to go beyond its doors. And why they expected a rescue team to show up. These men had no clue what was going on outside of the prison yard—hell, outside of the cafeteria. He wondered if ignorance was truly bliss in this situation, so long as they had food and entertainment.

"Well, what about the army?" the prisoner named Axel asked, snapping Daryl's gaze toward him.

T-Dog eyed Rick and Daryl, and Rick lowered his hunched shoulders. _Were they all this tensed up? _"There's no army…no government, no police," he whispered a soft explanation to the prisoners, "No hospitals or stores."

One of the prisoners from the back of their group spoke up now, concern laced with his words. "Do any of you got a cell phone?"

"Yeah, I gotta call my mom," another of the quiet prisoners agreed, moving closer to their group.

"Y'all don't get it, do ya?" Daryl asked, his eyes flitting from one prisoner to the next before settling finally on Rick.

"No cell phones, no computers or internet, no news or television…" his friend continued his explanation. "Half of the population's wiped out. And it's global."

A stunned silence swept across the group of prisoners as they tried to imagine a world without the convenience of communication. Even in the isolation of the prison, Daryl was sure they had it easy when it came to talking with family members, receiving news, and medical attention. For a moment, the hard-ass redneck felt sorry for them because the world around them went on while they were shut in a cafeteria, locked up in a prison they once wanted to leave, to rejoin the family waiting beyond its gates for them. The family that wouldn't be there now. Daryl might have hated his father, but at least he had the chance to say goodbye to him. No one seemed to have that luck anymore.

"The whole world's like this?" Tomas asked, finally breaking up the stillness. He tossed his head toward the back entrance where the walkers were still pushing against the doors, "Like that?"

Rick replied with a simple nod, and then sucked air in sharply through his gritted teeth. "We're all infected."

"Like AIDS?" Axel asked, receiving the stares of the remaining seven men.

"If I kill you," Daryl began impatiently, "shoot an arrow in your chest, you'd come back as one of these freaks."

"No bites. No scratches," T-Dog chimed in, getting straight to the point.

Now it was Tomas's turn to nod as he and his group connected the dots and understood how this infection worked. They would have to play by the new group's rules if they wanted to survive, and that realization was clear on Tomas's face as he thought through a deal. "You guys could take the courtyard, and a different cell block. The rest is o—"

"We're gonna use that land for crops," Rick interrupted, his voice stern, "and we've already cleared out our cell block."

As Tomas and the rest of the prisoners started arguing with Rick, Daryl knew that no matter what they agreed on, they would have issues with the other group. It wouldn't be safe to have the prisoners near their people, whether they settled perimeters or not. At least that's how Daryl felt. He simply didn't want Tomas and his crew near the group of people he called his family. He just didn't trust them, not even Axel who seemed to be the only one with his head on right as he tried to get Tomas to compromise.

It wasn't until Tomas pulled out his gun, though, that Daryl reacted to the banter. He stepped forward, his crossbow raised and aimed at Tomas's head. "We can take another cell block," Axel went on, his hands fumbling with Tomas's as he tried to lower the gun himself.

"You could leave, try your luck out on the road," Daryl suggested and shuffled closer to the prisoners.

Another silent standstill crept into the cafeteria as both groups chewed over the viable options. Rick wasn't going to budge about the cell blocks, and Tomas was finally realizing that. "We'll help you clear out another cell block," Rick offered quietly, "for half of what's left of your food."

"Sure don't look like you're starving," Daryl quickly added before the prisoners could object.

"And directions to the infirmary," T-Dog spoke up, receiving nods from both Rick and Daryl.

"You pay, we'll play."

Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog returned to their cell block with their hands full of food. Enough food that would last them until their gardens could take over, as Hershel promised. The prison was looking promising to Daryl, which reminded him to apologize to Beth about doubting her idea originally. Sure, they had some problems to figure out: weak spots in the fences, the prisoners, lasting walkers, water; but they had something secure for now, which was better than what they had at the cabin.

The infirmary turned out to be well-stocked with blankets, antiseptics, first-aid supplies, and some instruments that would aid in a Caesarean section if Lori's labor took that road once more. The group was able to replenish their medications with ibuprofen, a few antibiotics, and painkillers; all of which were great finds. And even better than that, the prisoners didn't really seem interested in anything but the painkillers, which Rick set them straight on immediately.

As they entered cell block C, Carol guided them toward a cell they'd set aside for storage for now, which was where the trio dropped off their half of the food and the supplies from the infirmary. Daryl glanced up at Rick and gave him a stare that told him how he truly felt about the prisoners, that he didn't trust them, and Rick returned it with a short nod. "Lock up this cell, Carol," he instructed as they exited it and headed down the block again.

"What's this I hear about prisoners?" Lori's voice echoed through the cell block as she stopped Rick by the steps leading up to the second level of cells. "Do you think they're dangerous?"

At this, Rick lifted his shoulders in a shrug and eyed Daryl for his opinion. "They're gonna take the cell block next to ours. No affiliation with us."

"Do they have guns?" Lori continued hounding her husband, her concern for the safety of not only her family, but the group she'd lived and survived with for months too, evident in the crack of her voice. Rick answered with a simple nod of his head before glancing once more at Daryl, who remained quiet in this exchange. "You think this is gonna work?"

The question was directed at Rick first, but Lori turned her attention to Daryl also, who'd earned her respect the day he dropped what he was doing to go and look for Rick, Hershel, and Glenn at the bar so many months prior.

"I don't know if it will," Rick finally responded, taking the words right out of Daryl's mouth. The latter shifted his gait and stared at his shoes, his hands shoved into his pockets. He felt Lori's eyes on him for a moment before she stepped closer to Rick.

"What are your options?"

"We can kill them."

Daryl was in favor of that idea, but he didn't know how the others in their group would respond to it. As far as he knew, he had the support of Rick and T-Dog; but he also had a feeling not many of the others would be okay with the slaughtering of five men—no, criminals. They had no idea what sentenced them to this prison before the outbreak, and that fact alone was enough for Daryl not to trust them, not this close to his family.

"If that's what you think is best," Lori surrendered, bringing Daryl out of his thoughts and back into the conversation between the couple.

"That's what I think's best," he interrupted and stood straight. "I wouldn't want murderers, rapists, or whatever the hell they are near my kids, if I were you. I don't even want them near Beth… or Carol, Maggie, you, Carl."

Lori quickly nodded in agreement and raised her hands to Rick and Daryl, giving them the decision. Daryl looked to Rick, who lifted his shoulders in a defeated shrug. "We'll give them a chance first."

"And if they fuck up once, Rick, we…"

"Don't hesitate."

Despite not bathing for long periods of time, Daryl felt his dirtiest now as he and Rick and T-Dog returned to cell block C. He was sweaty because the prison had no ventilation for the spring heat that Georgia offered. It made him feel sticky from head to toe and the stench he gave off activated his gag reflex. Why anyone wanted to be in his company was beyond him. His clothes were suffocating and over-worn. He wanted nothing more than to pull them off and jump into a stream. His hair was past the point of greasy and feeling more and more like a matted mess that stuck to his face and neck.

But his appearance wasn't what made Daryl feel soiled, it was the blood splattered on his face and hands, shirt and shoes. Two of his arrows had fresh brain matter on them, two lives on his conscience.

He entered their cell block in search of a towel, which he was told by Carol he'd find in their supply cell. She handed off the key and he made his way to the end of the row, observing quickly that most of the cells on the bottom level had been taken already. It didn't matter to him, though; he didn't plan on decorating a cell and making it his own. He didn't need a stiff bed and privacy behind narrow bars. That sort of comfort didn't make sense to him. After all, he lived most of his life drifting through Georgia. If anything, he was used to the floor.

After retrieving a towel, he turned to find Beth leaning against the frame of the supply cell, a smile present on her face. "That's a good look for you," she joked, but then offered him her canteen of water. "Saw Lori doing the same, figured you'd need it as well."

Daryl gave the girl a nod and took the bottle from her hand, tipping it into the towel to soak it before rubbing the blood from his hands. He turned the towel over, drenched it once more, and began scrubbing his forehead. "Let me," Beth suggested, holding her hand out for the towel, which Daryl handed over without a word. She stepped up onto a box and found herself eyelevel with him now. "What happened?" she asked quietly as she gently washed his face and neck.

"Can't trust people," Daryl mumbled, lifting his chin as Beth worked under his jaw and through his facial hair. "Just can't trust them."

"So they're gone?" Beth concluded softly and Daryl nodded once in confirmation. "They would've made me nervous, I think. I mean, there's a reason they were here, right?"

Although Daryl agreed, he didn't reply. His brother had been in and out of jail, but that didn't mean he deserved to die for it. He had mixed feelings over the situation, but his guilt over killing two living people was clear. It hung heavily on his heart and in his mind. And Beth seemed to sense it. She hummed quietly as she wiped the blood from below his eyes and around his ears. "You're still a good person, Daryl," Beth whispered and gave him a smile. "Even if you don't think so. Daddy says we all got jobs to do, and yours is to protect us. And mine is to clean you up." She grinned again and managed to get a small smile out of Daryl.

"I saved you a cell, by the way," she continued, wrapping up the bloody towel. "It's the next one down, next to mine. Thought you might want your own space since you took the living room at the cabin."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, but nodded slowly, his lips twitching up into another tiny smile. "Thanks, Beth."

"No problem. Your stuff's already in there and I cleared it myself." Her grin broadened and she hopped down from the box. She took the keys from his hand and nudged him out of the cell, stopping only to lock it shut behind them. With the towel tucked in the crook of her arm, she led him to his own cell where his extra clothes sat neatly on a table beside the bunk bed and a sheet hung in front of the bars to close off the room. On the bottom bunk, the blankets he used at the cabin were neatly tucked under the mattress and a pillow sat at the head of the bed. The sight of it made his body weak with fatigue, and he yawned suddenly. "Sleep, I'll get you for dinner."


	11. Chapter 10

During dinner, Beth's thoughts bounced around in her head louder than anyone was talking at the table. Maggie kept talking about the close call their father had, how he almost lost his leg, maybe his life.

_She has no idea, _Beth thought to herself, remembering the appalling sight of her father being rushed back into the cell block, passed out, and bleeding profusely from his stump.

Her thoughts jumped back to Daryl, and the sight of him after killing those prisoners. The state of him, a damp towel the only thing between his dirty face and the pads of her barely trembling fingers.

A different thought darted into her thoughts; Beth looked over at Lori, who was about ready to pop. A lot of things had changed from the first time. Her father still had his leg; all of the prisoners were gone. But Beth had the sneaking suspicion that terrible things were still ahead. She hoped they could save Lori this time. Judith deserved to know her.

Finally, the group started disappearing back to their cells. Beth picked up an empty tray and filled it with the left overs she had kept anyone from touching. She walked back to the cellblock and quickly found herself pushing aside the sheet that hid Daryl inside his cell. He was still asleep, peaceful almost. Sweat gathered on his forehead, but the prison was warm. The man didn't seem to be in the twists of another nightmare. Still, she approached slowly. The smell of food filled the cell. Beth placed the tray on the bedside table and rested a firm hand on Daryl's shoulder, shaking him awake gently.

"Daryl, I brought you dinner."

He stirred awake slowly, returning to reality from his slumber easier than he had the morning they'd gone hunting. His eyes opened and he inhaled deeply, and almost at once, his other senses kicked in. Daryl acknowledged the girl's hand on his shoulder with a glance.

Looking up, Daryl caught Beth's eye with a smile and pushed himself up. He rubbed at his eyes, and pushed his hair away from his face. "Thanks," his sleepy voice muttered as he reached for the plate of food.

Before digging in, he scooted over on his bed and patted the spot beside him, inviting Beth to have a seat and keep him company. She gladly took the spot next to the archer.

"How's everyone liking it?" he asked, turning his attention toward the warm plate and spearing the green beans with his fork. "You know, aside from the dead prisoners and walker-filled backyard."

Beth gestured with her hands as she spoke, "Everyone's in good sprits, even Maggie after all the whining she did about Daddy and his leg," Beth managed a lighthearted chuckle, like she didn't fully understand what could've happened. "It's safe here, people understand that. As, uhm, different as it is to be behind bars. The food and supplies don't hurt."

Her big blue eyes watched as Daryl shoveled food into his mouth, and smiled at the sight. "You clearly needed sleep. I almost felt bad waking you up, but I figured your body needed food just as much."

Daryl simply nodded and continued eating silently. He looked around the walls of the cell; his eyes were warm and intense as they landed on Beth. Clearing his mouth, he glanced over at her and smiled.

"Safety trumps style, nowadays," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Needs a poster of Kelly Kapowski, right there." He pointed his fork at the opposite wall and nodded. "We'll find you a Justin Bieber poster for your cell, Beth, don't worry!"

"Justin Bieber?" Beth scoffed and brushed her shoulder against his. "Is that what you think of me, Daryl Dixon? I'm more of a DiCaprio gal," she chuckled. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow, and continued eating silently.

Beth noticed Daryl was getting close to finishing his plate as she remembered something that had come to her at dinner. "Speaking of entertainment, I was thinking a place like this has to have a library somewhere. Prisoners have the right to read, don't they? Wanna help me look for it?"

Daryl scooped the last of his dinner into his mouth before he answered. He nodded a few times and set his plate aside. "Haven't read a book since high school," he began, getting to his feet. He reached for his crossbow and lifted the strap over his head and shoulder before securing his knife in the sheath on his belt and digging his flashlight from his bag. "Maybe I'll grab something, too."

Pushing the sheet to the side, he stepped out of his cell and waited for Beth to follow before dropping the drape. At her cell just next door, she slid her knife behind her belt and took up a bag for the books she chose. Daryl tossed his head down the cell block, allowing Beth to go first, and then followed close behind.

"Hey guys!" Carl's voice echoed around them before the boy appeared in the doorway. "Where're ya going?"

Daryl turned to look at Beth and she wondered if she was the only one who wanted this to be a private mission. "Gonna find the library," he replied, instantly sparking Carl's interest.

Beth stopped Carl short of asking his next question, anticipating it. "Not this time, okay? We don't know what, or who, is out there."

Carl started to oppose, started to say he was an adult now and he could handle himself. "C'mon, Carl," Beth cocked her hip to one side and placed her hand around it. "Your mother would kill me. I don't want her mad at me with those hormones!"

"But—" Carl started, but Daryl stepped up now. "I'll take you out to the yard myself later, okay, kid?"

The teenager rolled his eyes and relented. Stepping back inside his cell with a groan of disappointment.

As Daryl moved forward, he pressed his hand against Beth's back and guided her in front of him again, she felt at ease with him. The blonde could feel heat and color tickling the top of her ears.

They safely exited the cellblock without another confrontation, and once in the dark hallway, Daryl clicked on his flashlight and passed it off to Beth.

"Where d'you think it's at?" he asked, walking silently behind the girl with his knife ready for any surprise walkers, even though he, Rick, and T-Dog did a good job clearing this section of the prison. "Upstairs somewhere?"

"Probably. Near the back of the building, away from all the usual hustle and bustle," Beth mused, shrugging her shoulders. The beam from her flashlight danced around the wall from her movement.

The two moved quickly and quietly together, through the winding, dark hallways and up the main stairs. Almost completely silent as they covered more ground, so the gurgling sound of walkers reverberated around them loudly.

Daryl shot his crossbow without hesitating; the arrow whooshed past Beth's ear, leaving her breathless. The farthest of the pack dropped almost instantly, and Beth's knife sunk into the skull of the closest, leaving Daryl with the middle geek, which he took down swiftly.

The altercation pushed adrenaline through her veins as she caught her breath. Just as Daryl moved back into his position behind her, the flashlight flickered twice before going out. Beth muffled a shriek by turning around and burying her face in Daryl's chest.

He jumped a little as Beth closed in on him. After a beat, he chuckled quietly and peeled the girl away an inch. "Scared of the dark, Beth?" he asked, groping around blindly for the flashlight. It had the tendency of going out even when the batteries were fresh. Daryl found her hands finally and tugged the flashlight from them, banging it against the palm of his hand a few times until the light flickered back on.

Smiling down at the girl still gripping his shirt, he handed the flashlight over again and gave her a one-armed hug. "We're almost there," he whispered and pointed down a hallway where the moonlight could be seen coming through a barred window. "Just there."

Daryl clasped Beth's empty hand in his and led her toward the library, which was at the end of the hallway like he'd said it would be. He peered through the window on the door and then pounded it loudly with his fist. "Think we should grab something for Carl?"

A few walkers could be heard beyond the door, opening just one of them, Daryl took out four, one at a time. Standing at the threshold of the library, Daryl put his arm up to Beth's stomach. "Wait."

The blonde pushed past him and was met with three dead bodies—not walkers, but guards—each with a bullet to the forehead, like a suicide pact. The thought brought her eyes to the shelves lined with dusty books. The moonlight filtered between the barred windows.

"Yeah, poor guy, maybe he won't sulk around us for the next week if we do," she moved toward one of the shelves now, sliding her hand along the spines.

At Beth's words, Daryl's lips curled up into a small smile. Joining the girl, he lifted his fingertips to the books and read the titles. "Not a big reader," he admitted quietly as he skimmed, and then looked over at her.

Beth already had a few books in her bag, which she held open as she pulled more from the shelves.

"I used to love it. As a kid. Mostly comics," Daryl continued to explain. "My mom had a lot of books. I remember wanting to read them, feel closer to her—if creating a relationship was even possible."

Listening to Daryl talk about his childhood thrilled her even more than picking out books. It had been a long time since she'd had the leisure of getting lost in a good book, and she missed the magic stories created for her. But Daryl, talking about his mom and comics, it was more beautiful than her favorite story. The gruff man had a warm, snuggly center behind all of the defense mechanisms he'd built.

As he scanned the shelves, his eyes passed over a certain spine, which he tugged down. The tops of the pages were covered in a thin layer of dust and the binding was torn, like the book had been read multiple times over by careless people. Paperback books never lasted long. "I read this in high school," Daryl stated, thrusting the book into Beth's view.

She turned around to face him as he handed the book to her; Beth took it and flipped it over in her hands to read the description on the back. _A Brave New World_ — a dystopian novel. She hadn't read many before, but it seemed strange now. If the human race survived this ordeal, would society turn into _1984_? Or worse?

"So you liked it?" she asked finally, finishing up the description and looking up to catch Daryl's eye.

He shrugged his shoulders and tossed his head back and forth as he chewed over her question. He liked it, of course, because novels about a future world were always interesting. One of the main characters was relatable, especially for a seventeen year old Daryl. He'd written a paper on it, which helped him receive his diploma. But did he like it? It was work, he had to do it.

"I liked it," Daryl concluded with a short nod. "It's a good take on a new world. Ain't got walkers in it, but it's still good."

Beth chuckled at his response and suddenly had an idea, excitement spread across her face. Almost bouncing now, she dug into her bag and pulled out a book, much thicker than the one Daryl had handed her. Grinning, the blonde handed it over as if she was gifting a prized horse to a giddy girl. She wasn't, of course, she was handing a long book to Daryl Dixon, but she was hopeful as she spoke.

"This one is my favorite. I'm surprised they have it here, honestly. I bet some woman guard read it and thought the prisoners should, too," she swiped the air with her hand as if she could push her ramblings away. "Anyway, I was thinking maybe we could trade books. I'll read yours," she held _Brave New World_ up, "and you read mine."

Daryl took the brick of a book from her hands, read the title—_Change of Heart_—and flipped it over like she had with the book he handed to her. He tilted the book toward the flashlight and quickly read the summary of the story. "…and the rage of a mother who has lost her child," he muttered, turning it back over to look at the cover. "Is it gonna make me cry like a baby? 'Cause…sounds like it's gonna, Beth. Sounds like you're tryin' to make a grown man cry."

He smiled, though, and nodded before tucking the book under his arm with every intention of reading it. After all, it was her favorite novel and like his mother's books, he wanted to read it to feel closer to the girl. "I'm a slow reader, though, gotta give me time."

"Oh, I'll wait for you," Beth glanced away shyly, the smile now permanently fixed on her face. "It'll be worth it. The ending — I thought about it for weeks after."

She carefully adjusted _Brave New World_ atop the rest of the books in her bag, and faltered a little after holding the weight of her previous selections. "I should probably stop for now," she noted. "If we ever get out of this thing, I'll probably become a hoarder. I'm tired of having to condense all the time and leave things behind."

A blush crept to her cheeks as Beth realized she'd actually said that last part. "Anyway, did you wanna get any more?"

Daryl nodded slowly in agreement to leaving things behind. "No," he said, shaking his head earnestly, "I probably won't finish this before…"

Stopping short, he kept his dissipating memory to himself and simply shrugged his shoulders. He smiled and shifted closer to Beth, his hand reaching down to take the bag and carry it for her.

Beth's eyes were glued to the man as he leaned in toward her. Everything around them felt silent suddenly, she could hear her heart thumping against her chest. Watching him intently, she swallowed. Her breath stopped short in anticipation.

She leaned into him, just a fraction of an inch, and quickly swept the room before starting to close her eyes. It was then that she saw it. A fucking walker staggered into the library. Beth realized suddenly that whether the human race would eventually get rid of them or not, _this _was their life now. Trying to build a friendship with someone, or more, was tainted with the idea of danger and death all around them.

Angry and determined, Beth suddenly stepped away, just as Daryl's hand grasped the bag's handle. She wriggled her way out, and set her sights on the slimy walker. Steady, strong steps led her straight to her target. Like a graceful swan fluttering its wings, Beth slammed her knife into the walker's brains. She grunted as she pulled it out again, and turned to Daryl, who stood there watching.

She shrugged and it was as if she could let all of that anger flow off her shoulders. "Guess that's our cue to get back. We gotta get Carl his book."


End file.
